


Sly

by RunningOutsideTheLines



Series: Rockstar Draco [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Break Up, Death Eaters, F/M, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione Granger Bashing, Hermione just has different priorities, I know we are all surprised I can write a solid complete unambiguous ending, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Assault (some physical but mostly mental), Photographer Harry Potter, Really bus napping but there was no tag for that, Slow Burn, changing points of view, rock concerts, rockstar draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21565018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RunningOutsideTheLines/pseuds/RunningOutsideTheLines
Summary: Attempting to fulfill his probation requirement, Draco Malfoy starts a band, but things gotoowell.  Pansy is rapping, Ron is investigating, Harry is capturing the moment, Blaise just rolls his eyes while Draco is trying to figure out exactly what is going on.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley (past), Pansy Parkinson/Ron Weasley
Series: Rockstar Draco [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554139
Comments: 25
Kudos: 88





	1. Sentencing

**Author's Note:**

> This is a ten chapter fic. I have the first seven chapters written. Chapter eight is in progress and I have nine and ten mapped out. The plan is to post one chapter a week which will give me enough time to do a final pass on the chapters already written and finish up eight, nine and ten. I usually wait until a story is finished to post it because I know being left hanging is hard and even more so with the uncertainty of whether or not the author will finish. I promise, this one will get finished.
> 
> Passion in Paris is a scene from chapter five. It works as a stand alone, but also gives you a feel for where the story is heading as it takes me a bit to get there.
> 
> If you notice any mistakes or have any suggestions please leave them in the comments. I'm fairly good at taking constructive criticism as long as it is 'constructive'. If you want to rant and rave, I will direct you to someone else. :)
> 
> If I haven't successfully talked you out of reading please enjoy, and remember kudos and comments are my reason for writing (because let's be honest, none of us are getting paid for this). :)
> 
> On a side note, for those of you who have been waiting ever so patiently for me to write more on my "Not Easy" fic, that one is next! I've got the whole plan for how they defeat Voldemort in the first year mapped out. Once I get all ten chapters of this fic posted I'll start posting a chapter a week on that one. 
> 
> You guys sick of me yet? Yes? Okay, on with the fic!!!!

The buildings that house the Ministry of Magic are shrouded and dark, as though the intermittent sun refuses to shed its’ light on the new regime. The magical government, once the proud beacon of order and law, has fallen into shadow. Since the Dark Lord’s death, the ruling body has descended into the chaos of the ages of old, run by Mudbloods, blood Traitors and Muggle lovers. Rain trickles down, half hearted and dreary, as though even it cannot fully commit to moving forward in these dark times. The death of my Lord has cost us much, the setback to the cause is almost overwhelming. Rebuilding now is a process so slow and achingly painful, it is almost not worth the effort. 

Almost.

In the dark shadows I wait. A dark hood protects my skin both from the rain and recognition. My pale face, pockmarked and scarred from years of hard living, is easily recognizable, especially here, in the capital seat of my enemies. Here, where I should have ruled at my master’s side; instead I hide like a rat in the shadows, fearful for my own life. The frustrated rage rises up inside of me as I fight back the knowledge of what might have been. I have years of controlling my emotions but even my hard won control is badly tested against the anger that burns hot and bright like Fiendfyre in my soul. That fire cannot be seen. Patience is hard won but will be rewarded. I remind myself why I am here. Not for vengeance. Not yet. 

Not yet.

I am here collecting. Voldemorts followers have been scattered to the wind. Many ended up in Azkaban, myself included, but I had been the means of escape from that place once before. This time, I brought only one of my fellow inmates with me; a small force compared to my last jailbreak. Others have joined. Some willing, others less so. I am here to continue collecting resources. One jewel in particular shines like forbidden fruit. 

Malfoy.

Not Malfoy Senior. I left him rotting in prison. The old man’s will was broken. That he could refuse us, his fellow purebloods, still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. No, it is the son I am interested in. 

Draco, the heir of the Malfoy estate, arch rival of the great Harry Potter himself. 

The war was no more kind to the Malfoys than the other Slytherin pure-bloods. He is an outcast now, like the rest of us and I expect even now the Wizengamot are re-enforcing exactly how far his family has fallen from power.

Draco, like his father, was found guilty of aiding and abetting the Dark Lord by the highest magical court in Britain, as though that were something of which to be ashamed. Unlike his father, his youth saved him from the confines of Azkaban, although Lucius’ connections saved him from serving more than two years. Today is the young Malfoy’s sentencing. I wait and watch in the cold rain while inside the fools in power push him right into my arms. 

I smile. ‘Come to me, my little jewel. I am waiting for you.’

‘Ah, there he is.’ 

As though the sun itself recognizes the pure-blood heir, it breaks through the clouds and shines down on his white-blond hair like a beacon in the dark. He is tall and proud, head up, shoulders back. They have not broken him. 

I am not sure I approve. A broken boy would be much easier to manipulate. The control in his pace belies the tightly reigned in fury reflected in his face. I wish I was close enough to see his eyes. He is magnificent. 

‘Come to me, little Malfoy.’ 

I rock forward on my heels to step when another man bursts out of the doors behind Malfoy.

“Don’t think you can wiggle out of this one, Malfoy!” the second man calls. 

It is Robards. Gawain Robards, head of the Aurors. I push myself back into the darkness. Despite the painful magical illness that saps Robards mind and strength, he is a formidable adversary, especially here. Young Malfoy also recognizes the threat and turns, refusing to leave his back unprotected. That Malfoy sees Robards as a threat pleases me.

“What about my situation makes you assume I cannot feel the full weight of my position,” Malfoy responds. “I assure you, I understand the magnitude of what I have escaped.” His voice is calm and controlled but the superiority bread into him from infancy is still in evidence in his tone. 

That superior tone seems to drive Robards to madness. “You still think you are better than us, what with your fancy talk and your “escaping” without so much as a blemish. But there will be no escaping now. You’ll do your time, just like you were told. A year. Do you hear me, a full year with the Muggles, working every day, no magic. I’ll be watching. Be assured of that, I will be watching to be assured you learn your lesson this time, Malfoy.”

Ah, the sentence. To have the details of Malfoy’s sentence delivered to me like a present is more than I could have hoped for. It is delightfully insidious. A year, working without magic among the Muggles. I chuckle softly in delight. A sentence designed to bring the spoiled Malfoy heir to his knees. Young Malfoy has not been made to work a day in his life. He has been taught to rely on magic and money to provide the best the world has to offer. To be forced to find employment among Muggles strips from him the two things he has always relied upon. It is a sentence designed with humiliation in mind. From the anger in Malfoy’s face, he knows it.

“Oh come off it Robards. We both know this isn’t about any lesson. This is about revenge.” Malfoy snaps back. He has let Robards get under his skin. It is a mistake but Malfoy is too young to know it. “You blame my father for forcing you into hiding, no matter that he was simply trying to survive Voldemort himself. My father had nothing to do with you contracting that skin condition of yours or the constant pain you are in. He did not cause the epidemic that swept through the refugee camp where you chose to hide. You made your own decisions Robards, and just like the rest of us, now you have to live with the consequences.”

The fury in Robards face is delicious. 

“You're a fine one to talk of consequences, you with your fine house and your rich friends. But you’ll feel them now, yes you will. When you are slaving away in the Muggle world, you will know what it feels like, brought low, just like your kind deserve.”

“What exactly is my kind?” Malfoy snaps back.

“Slytherin filth. Snakes and low lifes', every one of you.” Robards snears and I feel my own hackles rise in defense. “You think you’re so high and mighty, but you’ll know what it is to crawl in the dirt before I’m done with you. You and your lot all belong in Azkaban or six feet under with your rotting Lord Voldemort and I’ll not rest until I see you get exactly what you deserve. 

My hand tightens on my wand. The anger that I have fought to control rears up and I grind my teeth against the curses on my tongue. This little man, who ran in fear when faced with true power, has insulted my Lord, my people and my cause. I shake in place at the effort to restrain violence.

“You will learn what it is to work in the dirt and filth of the Muggle world, you’re not qualified for anything else.” Robards pronounces as though delivering a verdict from Merlin himself.

Draco Malfoy simply looks down his aristocratic nose at him. “And this is justice, is it?” He does not wait for a response. With a swirl of his cape, he turns and walks off.

Robards and I both watch him leave. It was a brilliant line and an impressive exit. Even Robards seems to know he has been bested as he storms back into the Ministry of Magic. 

I stand quietly until my instincts to track Robards down and remove his intestines have retreated enough for me to think.

Draco Malfoy was magnificent, strong and defiant in the face of his enemies. As much as it pleased me to see him take on Robards, this is not the frame of mind I need him to be in when I invite him to join the newly reformed Death Eaters. He needs to be broken, struggling and weak. All that life has thrown at him has not yet broken young Malfoy. As much as I would like claim Draco Malfoy for the cause, the timing is not right.

I slip away through the shadows. 

No, the time to approach Draco Malfoy is after he has been forced to work in the Muggle world, to do the manual labor he will be forced into without a wand or the resources of his family wealth. A few months should be all it will take to break that lovely spirit. Until then, I will simply live in anticipation of having such a passionate young man under my thumb.


	2. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Actually,” Pansy interrupted again and then paused. “I can play guitar.”
> 
> The three boys blinked at her. “I thought you played the violin,” Blaise said.
> 
> “That too,” Pansy smiled at them. “I’m the middle child in a big family. We do what we must to get attention. My parents hated the guitar ... and the rapping.”
> 
> “You rap?” Greg asked, in stunned disbelief. Draco was staring at Pansy with a delighted smile on his face.
> 
> “Only where my mother can hear me, darling.”
> 
> “Pansy, you are a woman of hidden depths.” Draco threw his arms around her. “We will definitely invite your mother to hear us perform.”

Draco walked alone through the gardens of the Malfoy Manor. The stars above him and a sliver of moonlight were all that kept him company. The rhythmic movements of his legs and the deep in and out of the air through his lungs helped clear the turmoil in his brain. He fought not to think, just to move. 

Robards would not be banished easily. “Slytherin filth. Snakes and low lifes, every one of you.” His voice rang in Draco’s head.

Draco shook his head vigorously to clear. “Breathing ... breathing …” he reminded himself. The harsh words ached in his heart even as he fought to shove them away. “They’re wrong,” he spat, giving in once again to the intense urge to argue back against critics that would never hear him. The arguments ran through his head, crushing him down like Atlas beneath the weight of the world. The voices in his head were pitiless; unimpressed in the face of his logic, his pleading, even his attempts to run away. Where do you hide when the enemy has breached the gate of your mind and taken residence inside?

“Think of something else,” Draco counseled himself. Like the Patronous spell, these demons could only be driven off by other, happier thoughts. It was not a spell that Draco had ever mastered and he despaired that fighting his demons would be just as impossible

The night seemed unending. He picked up his pace. “Breathing in … breathing out…”

Surely there was some place he could find peace, a dream, a fantasy. It did not have to be real. Draco dug through this mind, trying to remember the last time he had allowed himself the simple pleasure of a wish. He had been caught up in the wishes and dreams of others for so long; his mother’s, his father’s, Voldemort’s. Draco couldn’t remember the last time he had a wish that was for himself alone. It had to have been years ago, before Voldemort had ruined his life, before the war, before school, before Hogwarts. 

Draco paused on the path as he remembered

The last time he had allowed himself the luxury of a dream had been just before starting at Hogwarts. He had been eleven. 

The Draco of the present looked up at the stars as he remembered. 

He had been told that the great Harry Potter would be in his class at Hogwarts. Looking back Draco still wasn't sure if his father had meant the information as encouragement or a warning. Years later, he could still feel the excitement he had felt then. The chance to meet Harry Potter, to possibly make a powerful friend who could help him carry the weight that even at eleven he was already feeling. It was a hope and a dream that even now, all these years later, still held a bittersweet sway on his heart. His hand reached up towards the heavens, remembering another moment he had reached out in hope. 

It was a long, quiet moment as he waited, hand outstretched and forever empty, lost in memory.

Finally Draco dropped his hand. Even Potter's rejection of him had not cooled his intense interest. He had squared off against Potter at every opportunity. “Look at me,” Draco remembered thinking in one encounter after another. “I may not be your friend, but I am something to you. You look at me and know you know my name.” 

Draco squared his shoulders under the weight of his life.

Draco had other friends, others stood beside him even now as he had once hoped Harry Potter would. Saving them, and himself, was a task that fell to him alone. 

Still ... the dream of having a powerful friend like Harry Potter to help him, to support him, to rescue him; it was a vision that was as intense now as it had been at eleven years old.

Draco smiled at his own foolishness and he began to walk once again. The tightness in his chest easing as he indulged in the memory of what it was to be rescued by the great Harry Potter. 

In the stillness of the night, Draco indulged in thoughts of Harry Potter and what might have been and the demons were quiet.

oOo

“I’m sorry,” said Greg Goyle feeling miserable as he stared at the expensive patterned carpet that covered the floor of the Zabini West Parlor.

“You already said that,” Draco reminded him from where he sat on the other side of the room. The blond’s eyes were squeezed shut as he pinched the brow of his nose. 

“It’s not your fault the Wizengamot sentenced you to a year working with the Muggles any more than it is mine or Draco’s,” Pansy said kindly.

“His lack of skills is making it harder to figure out a Muggle job that isn’t humiliating,” Blaise muttered from where he was picking out notes on the piano.

“Not helpful,” Draco snapped.

“Sorry,” Blaise said to the piano keys.

“All we’ve done for the last hour is apologize to each other.” Pansy collapsed in a high-backed, uncomfortable looking chair in front of the line of tall windows. Greg got to a count of eight before she was up and moving again.

“It’s better than what I was doing before that.” Blaise moved on from muttering to grumbling. Greg, an expert on both muttering and grumbling, was able to tell the difference.

“Oh sweetie, has your mother already left.”

“Yesterday. Her and her latest fiance, whose name I haven’t even bothered learning, have fluffed off to tour Europe until they get bored enough to tie the knot. Why else do you think I am hanging around with you lot?” The bitterness in Blaise voice spoke clearly his opinion of his mother's latest association. Noemi Zabini’s string of marriages was as famous as her political intrigues. That her political reputation and power had survived the war unscathed surprised no one.

“At least your mother got you acquitted before she left.” Draco opened his eyes and stretched out his long legs in front of him. “My father couldn’t even get himself off.”

“Yes, but darling what are we going to do?!” Pansy brought the conversation back around to the subject that they had been beating their heads against for what felt like forever. “We can’t use magic, we have no credentials in the Muggle world. Any job that we qualify for would involve manual labor and my nails would never recover from such abuse!”

Draco cracked a smile at that. “Never fear, Pansy darling. We will find something that does not require such a sacrifice.” Then his expression grew serious. “We are highly trained, well bred, extremely intelligent individuals. We will find a solution.”

“But what?!” Pansy wailed and collapsed back on the uncomfortable looking chair. This time Greg only got to six before she was up again.

“I could do manual labor,” Greg volunteered. “If you didn’t have to worry about me the two of you could find something, I’m sure.”

“No,” Draco said, the same thing he had been saying from the beginning when Greg mentioned going off on his own.

“He’s right, you know,” Blaise put in. “You and Pans both have had training, growing up in wealthy homes, that Greg here did not get.”

“We’re not splitting up! We will figure out a way to get through this without being humiliated and Robards and the whole Wizengamot can go to hell.” Draco slapped his hand down hard on the arm of his chair for emphasis. 

Greg’s lips pulled in the tiniest of smiles from the warmth that filled his chest at his friend’s defense. It was odd though. In school, Greg would never have assigned the term of friendship to himself and Draco. Since Crabbe’s death, something had changed in Draco. He had become more protective of him, checking on him to see if he was alright, including him in things, not just as muscle but as though he mattered. 

It was strange in the best way, but strange nonetheless. Greg had been keeping an eye on Draco for other strange behaviors. There were other differences but they were harder to put into words, or at least Greg found it hard. He had never been good with words.

“What training did we receive that would possibly be of value in the Muggle world?” Pansy said, ignoring Draco. That at least had not changed. Pansy always had a knack for ignoring what she did not like.

“Well,” Blaise leaned back on the piano bench. “You know wines and food.”

“Waiting tables at some Muggle restaurant? Terrific.” Even Greg could not miss the sarcasm in Draco’s voice.

“Both of you are halfway decent artists,” Blaise continued.

“Artistic jobs are as hard to come by in the Muggle world as they are in ours, darling,” Pansy said with obvious regret.

Blaise’s brow creased in thought. 

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, Greg could not help pointing out what he thought was obvious. “What about music?”

Pansy waved him off, not even bothering to respond but Draco sat up straighter in his seat. “Wait, … isn’t … what was that Professor’s name, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher … the bad one.”

“They were all bad,” Blaise said.

“Yes, right, but the REALLY bad one.”

“Lockhart, dear.”

“Yes, that’s it! Lockhart.”

“Oh man, he was awful,” Blaise shuddered. “Definitely the worst of a bad lot.”

Greg was confused how any of this related to music, or even getting them jobs, but Draco was obviously getting excited and he felt his hopes rise.

“Right, right,” Draco nodded as he bounced up from his seat and started pacing. Pansy stopped her own pacing to watch him. All of them were watching him. When Draco got an idea, he lit up like Hogwarts at Christmas. It was impossible to look away.

“He had a sister, or two sisters maybe … anyway. She’s a squib. I remember because she came here once looking for father, needed help with something legal. She had gone to work in the Muggle world.”

“Love, while I am sure this is fascinating …”

“... As a band tour manager.”

There was silence as they digested this.

“A music band?” Greg clarified.

“Yes, Greg,” Draco said in a way that suggested he was being a bit slow but the smile on his face meant he did not mind.

“A band.” Blaise said as though he were tasting the idea on his tongue.

“Darling, we don’t have enough people for a band.” Pansy objected.

“Sure we do. I mean enough to get started, anyway.”

They all looked at each other. Greg closed one eye and squinted hoping it would make it easier to see them as a band. It did not help.

Blaise shook his head. “I don’t see it.”

“Blaise can be on keyboard,” Draco said.

“I’m the only one here who doesn’t have to do this,” Blaise reminded Draco.

“We won’t hold that against you,” Draco said as though that were the issue, but then followed up with “It will be fun,” and tossed him a wink. “I can do the lead vocals and guitar,” Draco went on.

“Actually,” Pansy interrupted again and then paused. “I can play guitar.”

The three boys blinked at her. “I thought you played the violin,” Blaise said.

“That too,” Pansy smiled at them. “I’m the middle child in a big family. We do what we must to get attention. My parents hated the guitar ... and the rapping.”

“You rap?” Greg asked, in stunned disbelief. Draco was staring at Pansy with a delighted smile on his face.

“Only where my mother can hear me, darling.”

“Pansy, you are a woman of hidden depths.” Draco threw his arms around her. “We will definitely invite your mother to hear us perform.”

Pansy tucked herself up under Draco’s chin and smiled happily. It had been years since the two of them were a couple, but they were still comfortable being in each other’s space.

“What does that leave?” Draco asked, when the two of them separated. 

“We’ve got keyboard, guitars, vocals….” Blaise mused. “We need a drummer and we might just pull this off.”

Everyone was suddenly looking at Greg. 

“Umm,” he said and shrugged.

“I’ve seen him dance.” Pansy said to Draco. “He’s got rhythm.”

“I don’t know anything about drums or music or anything!” Greg protested.

Draco came up to him and pulled him out of the chair. “Are you willing to learn?” he asked.

Greg looked around the room at these people who were his closest friends. He was nervous … but he was not alone. He shrugged. “Sure?” he said, knowing it came out more a question than a statement.

“Then we’ll teach you.”


	3. Breaking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron showing up at Grimmauld place without Hermione was not a surprise.

Ron showing up at Grimmauld place without Hermione was not a surprise.

“It’s over,” his best friend said as he walked out of the fireplace.

“Ron, I …” Harry stuttered, unsure how to respond. Ron walked up to him, dropping his forehead down to rest on Harry’s shoulder. With Ron’s height, that could not have been comfortable but he did not move. Harry tentatively wrapped his arms around his childhood best friend. “I’m so sorry.”

His breathing ragged, he nodded. “I can’t… I just can’t…” Ron seemed as incapable of completing a sentence as Harry.

“Do you want to sit?” Harry asked.

Ron nodded again but made no other move.

The two of them stood together, sniffling the only sound in the room. Finally Ron lifted his head and turned towards the old couch, Harry following and settling next to him. “Do you want to talk about it.”

“I was never a priority.” Ron said, wiping his eyes. “Not a first priority or even a last priority. I never even made the fucking list. She just … it was all about her career, you know? Ever since they moved her over to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement she just … there was no time for me.”

“So last night didn’t go well, I take it.” 

It had been their anniversary. Ron had been planning it for weeks: the perfect restaurant, flowers, wine, a nice evening out for the two of them. Harry had helped him plan it. 

“She never even showed up.” Ron’s voice broke.

“Something came up at work?” Harry asked. It was tough hearing about his two best friends fighting. He loved them both, wanted to think well of both of them. It was the Gryffindor in him that he wanted to fix this.

Ron shook his head. “I asked her. I was hurt, but I thought, you know, something big came up. People in danger and they needed her, something like that, you know. But there wasn’t. She just forgot. Just ‘slipped her mind’.” Ron’s fingers making quote marks in the air. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep making her my whole world when she can’t even be bothered.”

“Did she apologize?” Harry asked, trying to find something that he could use to help put them back together.

“Nope,” Ron said. “Didn’t seem to think it was a big deal. Said I was too needy, that maybe a break is just what we needed to ‘get our priorities straightened out’.” His laugh was without humor. “I don’t think she meant her.”

Harry pulled his best friend back into a hug. He could not think of anything else to do, admitting to himself quietly that maybe there was not anything left to fix.

“What can I do?”

Ron sighed and pulled back. His chewed on his lower lip for a minute before asking in a low broken voice, “Am I too needy?”

“No,” Harry said firmly and suddenly he was furious at Hermione for making Ron ask such an awful question. “No, you’re not.”

Ron’s blue eyes rimmed with clumped red lashes looked up at him. “You sure?”

“Absolutely. You’re perfect.” Ron laughed bitterly and looked away. Harry grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him a little. “Listen to me, you are perfect. Perfect for me. You know how the Dursleys treated me, ignoring me, turning me into little more than a servant. I’d never had a friend until I met you. I had years of neglect and feeling worthless and unloved. I had a hole the size of Hogwarts inside me when we first met. You filled that in a way no one else could. You wanted to be around me, sought me out, made me feel special and important and needed. No one had ever made me feel that way before.”

“Really?” Ron met his eyes for a moment and Harry could tell he was getting through. 

“I swear it … and maybe …” He took a deep breath, less sure about how to say this next part but willing to stumble forward for a bit longer if it helped. “Maybe you’re not perfect for Hermione or maybe you just need time or … I don’t know. But if you’re not, then there is someone else out there you are perfect for … someone who is perfect for you. Whether that person is Hermione or maybe … maybe someone else … Look it doesn’t matter. You just gotta … just hang in there, alright? Because you’re my best friend and you’re always going to be perfect at that. Alright?”

“Alright?” Harry asked again, leaning down to catch Ron’s eyes.

Ron nodded and rubbed his nose with his sleeve. “Yeah, okay. You too, you know?”

“I know,” Harry said pulling Ron back into a hug.

It was quiet for a bit, both men lost in their own thoughts. Harry broke it to carefully recommend, “You should take some time off from the Aurors, get your head together.”

“Oh Merlin, don’t even get me started …” Ron said raising his head but the smile he wore was real even if his eyes were still damp.

“What did Robards do now?” Harry asked, having heard too many rants about Ron's boss to be in any doubt who was involved.

“The man has flipped his lid, completely crazy. I’m telling you Harry, you should be glad you never joined. He's gone round the bend.”

“Still going on about the same old topic?” Harry asked. 

The two friends shared a grin. “Malfoy,” they said in unison.

“And I thought your obsession with Draco was bad fifth year. You got nothing on Robards.” Ron said, leaning back and stretching out a bit as he warmed to his subject.

Harry rolled his eyes, but otherwise let the comment go. He knew there was more to stalking Malfoy fifth year than he wanted to admit to himself at the time. It wasn’t until the whole thing was over, Voldemort was defeated and he was finally pulling himself together that he finally realized his affection for Ginny had been more about his love for her family than any specific attraction towards her. It took even longer to admit that the rivalry between him and Draco was as much about the fact that the boy was pretty as anything else. Harry had always loved staring at Draco and saying he hated him gave him the perfect excuse.

With that realization, it was pretty easy to let go of any lingering animosity he might have felt for his one time rival. He knew Draco had not had an easy time of it during the war, none of them had. Mentally Harry had wished him well, and moved on with his life. He and Robards had chatted about Malfoy several times when he had been contemplating joining. What seemed to Harry to be an unreasonable antagonistic attitude that Robards held towards the Malfoys was one of the many reasons Harry had decided not to become an Auror. 

“Senior or Junior this time?”

“Junior. Senior seems to be pretty quiet in Azkaban these days since the breakout. Although according to Robards, that’s its own conspiracy. He’s sure there is some deep dark secret as to why Lucius did not go with the other two Death Eaters, Rookwood and Dolohov I believe it was, when they made their escape.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Lucius is not dumb. Sit quiet for two years, or break out and get hunted for the rest of his life. With the prison reforms, it’s not like that’s a hard call.”

“I know, right?” Ron agreed. “And now Draco is really driving Robards round the twist.”

“Oh yeah, what’s he up to?” And if Harry leaned forward a bit too largely, Ron did not mention it.

“So get this, you know him and several of his buddies got sentenced to a year working with the Muggles right?”

Harry nodded, “I thought at the time that was a crazy sentence. I mean, what good would it do? It’s not like they are going to go out there and start getting warm fuzzies for Muggles by making them slave away at whatever crap job they can find. It was more like they were trying to humiliate them rather than inspire real change.”

“No arguments from me, mate. If anyone had any reason to dislike Malfoy, it’s us and if we think the sentence is stupid and pointless, I can’t imagine how anyone else justified it.”

“So what’s Malfoy doing?”

“Oh you’ll love this. I guess everyone just assumed they wouldn’t be able to find any work worth doing and so no one thought to limit what kind of job they could take. As long as they weren’t using magic and could prove they were working regularly there were no other stipulations.”

“What are they doing?” Harry asked again, getting a bit impatient.

“They formed a band.”

“What?!” Whatever Harry was expecting, that wasn’t it.

“You heard me right. A band. Called it ‘Sly’, of all things, can you believe it? Robards, of course hears that and thinks they’ve got to be awful, right? … booed off the stage every night, that sort of thing? … he goes to check it out only to find out …”

“They’re good?” Harry guesses.

“According to the papers, they are fantastic; the biggest thing to hit music in years according to one review. There’s enough interest in them to send them out on tour. Up one side of England and down the other. I guess it’s already sold out.”

“Huh. Well good for Malfoy. He always did know how to land on his feet. I hope it works out for him.” Harry leaned back with a satisfied smile.

“If only Robards had that attitude.”

“Go ahead, tell me. What did he say?”

“I went in this morning to ask for some time off. I mean I need it right?”

“Yeah, you really have no business out in the field until you get your head together,” Harry agreed.

“Robards not only refused to approve my leave, he gives me this bullshit case to go find out how Malfoy is enchanting everyone.”

“He thinks they’re casting spells on their audience?” Harry asked. “That’s crazy! Mass effect enchantments don’t work like that. Every first year in Hogwarts knows you can't enchant your way into being loved. There isn’t a single one of us who doesn’t try to figure out how to cast a spell to become the most popular kid in school. That came up in the first week in charms class and Flitwick lectured us on it for the whole class. Think about it. How do you cast a spell so that people you’ve never met want to come see you? I mean I guess you could cast a spell on the audience when they are there but as soon as they get out of range everyone would be right back to normal. Trust me, if there was a spell to permanently make everyone love you every politician in the history of politics would have used it.”

“Exactly." Ron said, nodding along, "It’s unbelievable. Robard’s got Death Eaters breaking out of Azkaban, a rash of missing youths in Northern Scotland, and who knows what else …”

“.. and he’s got you chasing after Malfoy.” Harry finished for him.

Ron grinned. “It’s almost like being back at Hogwarts. The world burning down around our ears and all anyone wants to do is talk about the Malfoys.”

Harry grinned back. “So what are you going to do?”

“Nothing I can do, not if I want to keep my job. Robards pulled some strings with Miriam Lockhart, Gilderoy Lockhart’s older sister …”

Harry groaned at the mention of the former Professor’s name.

“I know, right? But I hear she’s alright, not like her younger brother at all. She’s a squib, works as a band tour manager, which I guess is how Malfoy got going because she's now working for him and his band. Anyway, it sounds like they need a band photographer.”

“Wait, you are going to be the band photographer? What do you know about photography?”

“Nothing,” Ron said with a shrug. “Even less about Muggle photography, excepting that my dad probably has a Muggle camera around somewhere I can borrow.”

“I don’t understand, why are you going in as a photographer in the first place. It’s not like they won’t know who you are and why you are there? Robards is not subtle about his dislike and your being an Auror isn’t a secret.”

“Are you asking me to explain Robards? Because I’ll tell you right now, man, I’m out, not happening, no way.”

“Crazy way to run a department.”

“No joke. Even Hermione….” The lighthearted feeling that had developed in the room disappeared in an instant at the mention of her name.

Harry watched Ron as he stared blankly at the carpet, worried and helpless and aching for his friend. 

“Hey,” he said softly bumping Ron’s shoulder.

Ron looked up at him.

“Can I come?”

The grin that spread over his best friend's face was a gift Harry treasured.

oOo

Long after Ron left, Harry sat staring into the fireplace. His thoughts wandered like a lost child in the halls of his mind. It was hard at times to wrap his head around all that had happened, that he had survived Voldemort, had defeated him and that he, Ron and Hermione were adults now. Sometimes it felt like it had all happened to someone else.

He thought of Ron and Hermione and remembered when the three of them had been a single unit facing down the world. There were other moments when Harry had felt like an outsider, looking in on their relationship.

It felt good to be able to be there for Ron tonight even as his heart broke over what his best friend was going through. It had been a while since he felt as close to Ron as he had tonight and Harry was looking forward to helping him with his case.

That the two of them were both single again was going to take a bit of getting used to. Although Harry was pretty sure it would be a while before Ron was ready to start anything new, he could not help thinking about what the future might look like. There would be new people in their lives. Harry wondered who they were, what they would look like and where they would find them.

Eventually, Harry’s mind drifted back to Hermione. He was worried about how the two of them would fit now that she and Ron had broken up. He worried about her career and how passionate she was about it, really to the exclusion of all else. Robards came to mind and his passionate obsession with Malfoy. Would Hermione’s focus on her work lead to similar obsessions? He did not want to think of her like that, tried to tell himself that she would never do such a thing, but still he was worried.

Of course thinking of Robards lead him to remember his own obsession with Draco Malfoy. At the time his obsession with his rival classmate had been almost as intense as his focus on Voldemort, but his interest in the Dark Lord had died with him, while Draco Malfoy would still arise from time to time to haunt his thoughts.

Harry had often wondered how his archrival was fairing, knew it could not be easy with the choices his family had made, and even found himself with feelings of sympathy that he was not exactly sure what to do with. It was good to hear that the clever blond had not only found a way to survive but to thrive. Staring at the flames Harry could almost see that aristocratic nose raised in proud superiority. While once such a pose would have infuriated him, Harry now felt only amusement as he imagined this expression he knew so well turned on the world.

The amusement slowly fade as the fire died down and his feelings shifted back to the strange unease that he often felt in regards to Malfoy. It felt like somewhere along the way he had missed something. Going back over their history together, Harry was still not sure what he could have done differently, but that did not stop him from feeling like somehow he had missed his chance at something.

Pale grey eyes seemed to stare out of the fireplace at him with a tinge of sadness that Harry had always noticed on the originals despite himself. There were many times Harry found himself wishing to give comfort where he knew it would never be welcome.

Sighing, Harry pulled himself from the couch to head up to bed. The future and everyone in it would still be there in the morning and he needed his sleep if he was going to keep up with Ron. Still, as he trudged up the stairs, Harry admitted to himself that he was looking forward to his encounter with Malfoy. 

At the very least, moments with Draco Malfoy were always interesting.


	4. Visiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Actually, there was something else,” Ron said. “We need a Muggle camera. I seem to remember you picked one up a year or so ago.”
> 
> “Oh yes, of course it’s over … well it was … did I put it …” Arthur’s voice faded out as he disappeared into the never ending piles of stuff. “Ah ha! Found it! And Molly says I can’t find anything in here.” Arthur put the black box like item into Ron’s outstretched hands.
> 
> “Do you know how to use it?” Ron asked, looking at it like it was going to bite him.
> 
> “Not a clue,” Arthur admitted.

Harry and Ron’s meeting with Miriam Lockhart could be condensed down to one sentence: “Screw this up and die.” Harry was not sure if Ron had been feeling any stress before the meeting about posing as a band photographer but he certainly was now. It still was not clear to either of them why Ron needed to pose as a photographer in the first place but Miriam was no more willing to let them back out of the job than Robards had been.

“Rock and a hard place,” Ron muttered as they stepped out of the Floo at the burrow and Harry had nodded in agreement. “Dad!” 

They roamed through most of the Weasley home before they both shared a ‘Duh’ moment. “He’s in the workshop!” they said almost in unison.

It took several minutes to find Arthur among the muggle claptrap that lay in towering piles everywhere. Like the burrow itself, Harry was convinced the piles were held up by magic and would not have even ventured inside had he had the slightest inclinking that the piles of junk were left to the laws of physics alone.

“Come in! Come in! Look what I have. One of the guys at the office got it for me. It’s a Muggle electric salad bowl.” Arthur beamed with excitement as he held the item out for their inspection. 

Harry could not contain his laughter. Both Arthur and Ron were looking at him in confusion as he wiped his eyes. “Arthur, that’s a lampshade.”

“Oh,” Arthur said with a shrug and his usual good humor as he stuck the lampshade under one arm and headed back into the mess. “Molly will be devastated that she missed a chance to fatten Harry up.”

“She over at Ginny’s?” Ron asked.

“Yes. You’d think the wedding was right around the corner with the way they are all clucking about.”

“And how is Neville doing?” Harry asked. “I haven’t seen him since the announcement.”

“He is doing what every groom aught,” Arther said fondly. “Staying out of it.”

All three men nodded their approval at this behavior. Getting between the Weasley women and their weddings was a good way to lose more than you were willing to part with and that was a fact.

“What brings you boys over, not that you’re not always welcome” Arthur was quick to assure them.

“Broke up with Hermione,” Ron mumbled.

Arthur’s head almost seemed disembodied as it popped out of a pile. “Oh son, I am sorry.”

Ron just nodded, his eyes fixed on the floor.

The rest of Arthur climbed out of the pile to stand before his son. “I know things haven’t been easy between you lately. I’m not surprised, but I am truly sorry.” He put a hand on Ron’s shoulder.

“Thanks, Dad,” Ron said softly.

“Did you want to talk about it?”

“No, I’m good, just … could you be the one to tell Mum?”

Arthur’s smile was kind and understanding. “Of course. Your Mum loves you, but she can be a bit overwhelming when her plans fall through. She did so have her heart set on Harry marrying Ginny and you marrying Hermione and all of you moving into the burrow to regularly pop out grandchildren for her to spoil.”

“I never thought we’d hear the end of it when Harry and Ginny broke up.” Ron tossed Harry a wiry smile. “You were a better man than me, you didn’t hide at all.”

Harry just shrugged. “It helped that it was mutual. It was an idea we tried that didn’t work. Ginny’s support of the whole thing took a bit of the wind out of your mum’s sails.”

“Not much,” Ron muttered and they all laughed.

“Molly is a good woman, bless her, but she doesn’t have a timid or shy bone in her body. One of the reasons I fell in love with her, to be honest.” Arthur beamed, every inch the proud husband.

‘When I feel that way about someone, the way you feel about Mrs. Weasley, that’s when I’ll propose.” Harry found himself saying.

Arthur’s smile grew even brighter. “I can’t think of a finer compliment,” he said, clapping Harry on the shoulder with his free hand. “Now, do you fine boys want to help me organize this mess or are you going to come up with a convincing excuse for why you suddenly have to be somewhere else?” His eyes twinkled at them.

“Actually, there was something else,” Ron said. “We need a Muggle camera. I seem to remember you picked one up a year or so ago.”

“Oh yes, of course it’s over … well it was … did I put it …” Arthur’s voice faded out as he disappeared into the never ending piles of stuff. “Ah ha! Found it! And Molly says I can’t find anything in here.” Arthur put the black box like item into Ron’s outstretched hands.

“Do you know how to use it?” Ron asked, looking at it like it was going to bite him.

“Not a clue,” Arthur admitted. “What do you need it for?”

“Here, let me see,” Harry took the camera from Ron. “My uncle had one of these when I was growing up. I don’t think it was as nice as this one though. Look at these settings … portrait, landscape, indoors and outdoors. Nice. Do you have a charging station for the flash?”

Arthur just blinked at him for a moment. “Umm… what would that look like?”

“A long black cord with two funny looking ends.”

“Yes! Wait, that sounds like something that came with it. Just a moment.” Sure enough, a few minutes later Harry had the power cord and a couple of additional lenses packed away with the camera in a nice case slung over his shoulder. “What did you say you needed it for again?” Arthur asked as the two men turned to go.

“Oh, it’s Robards. He’s as barmy as ever, sure that Malfoy is out there trying to take over the world with his band.”

Arthur shook his head. “I was hoping this obsession Gawain has with the Malfoys would ease with time, but if anything it seems to be getting worse.”

“No arguments from us on that,” Ron said emphatically.

“Hmm… I hate to cause trouble, especially with all that the poor man has gone through, what with his skin condition and the constant pain he must be in, but …. well it just seems to me that trying to head up the Aurors might be a bit much for him. I’ll chat with Kingsley. He’s been run off his feet as the new Minister of Magic but I think he’ll appreciate a heads up.”

“If you could get us out of this waste of time assignment that would be awesome,” Ron perked up at the thought but Arthur shook his head.

“No, no. You boys run along and do what you’re told. It won’t hurt anything to check and maybe take the time to build some bridges while you are there.”

“Build bridges?!” Ron squaked. “With Malfoy?”

“He’s not as bad as all that, not really. I know you lot all had your rough times at school but that’s all behind us now. Those of us who survived have to pull together if we don’t want the next generation having to fight the same wars over again.”

“That is actually very wise,” Harry said.

Arthur smiled. “Well, you let enough stuff come out of your mouth, eventually something falls out that’s of value.” But Arthur’s cheeks were ruddy as Harry pulled the man who had become like a father to him into a hug. Of course, Ron followed up with a hug of his own. 

Arthur walked out with them, his chest almost bursting with pride as he watched them go. Just before they got to the edge of the clearing where they could Apparate he called out “You might check with Charlie about the camera. He wasn’t using Muggle equipment, but a while back he was taking pictures of the Dragon preserve for the Daily Prophet. He might be able to help.”

“You’re father is a good man,” Harry told Ron as the two waved back to indicate they had heard.

“The best,” Ron agreed.

oOo

Charlie Weasley was shorter than Harry remembered, but the Dragons he tended in Romania most certainly were not.

“Don’t you remember her,” Charlie asked, patting the large lizard like dragon with black scales on the nose while both Harry and Ron were keeping as far back as possible.

“I have this thing about Norwegian Ridgebacks,” Harry said, not the least bit embarrassed about the fact he was cringing away from the Dragon. “It probably comes from the time one tried to eat me.”

“You mean the Goblet of Fire tasks? Naw, she wasn’t trying to eat you, just protecting her eggs. ‘Sides, the way I remember it, you managed to keep ahead of her.”

“Barely,” Harry cringed back as the dragon stepped closer. Ron, great friend that he was, managed to keep Harry firmly between him and the Dragon. It felt like a repeat of the trip to visit Hagrid’s spiders. 

“Still, that was a completely different lady altogether,” Charlie waved the other away. “This pretty girl here has her own history with the two of you.”

“No she does not,” Ron protested. “I work hard not to have any kind of history with man eating monsters. I got enough of that in school.” Harry nodded his head in agreement.

“Aww … don’t listen to them, pretty girl. They just don’t recognize you, is all,” Charlie cooed at the towering beast. “‘Course you were quite a bit smaller last time they saw you.”

“Wait is that…?” Ron popped his head up over Harry’s shoulder to get a closer look … or to make Harry feel short. Could be both. “Is that Hagrid’s egg?”

“Norberta?” Harry asked and sure enough, the dragon’s large head swung their way as it began to sniff at them.

“Wait. I thought it was a boy egg. Norbert, right?” Ron said. “Wooh, keep that thing away from me, he’s already bitten me once.”

“You can’t tell the gender by the egg Ron,” Charlie teased and Ron pulled a face at him. “We figured out Norbert was really Norberta not long after she got here. Girls are much more violent and territorial you know.”

“Greaaaat,” Harry and Ron said in unison.

“Anyway, as I was saying earlier, I was taking pictures of all the Dragons on the preserve for the Prophet a bit ago, mostly because I was the only one who could get a decent shot. Their professional photographer wouldn’t come anywhere near the dragons.”

“Highly intelligent individual,” Ron said as both he and Harry cringed back yet again from Norberta.

“It’s harder than you might think?”

“No, I understand exactly how hard it is to be anywhere near Dragons.” Ron protested.

“I mean taking the pictures, dummy,” Charlie glared. “The image you get on a camera isn’t anything like what you see. The lighting is different. I almost always found I had to have more light than I thought on whatever part of the dragon I wanted to see. And then having the camera pointed at just the right spot, ready to take the picture right when the dragon was in just the right place … I’m telling you, harder than it sounds.”

Harry took a deep breath and picked up the camera that was hung around his neck. “Is she going to freak out if I take her picture?”

“No, she’ll be good. She’s rather friendly with people, unlike most of the other Norwegian Ridgebacks on the preserve. Probably because of her time with Hagrid. And there is a good chance she’ll even remember you. Dragon memories are amazing.”

Harry played with the camera settings for a moment before taking off the lense and aiming it towards the dragon.

“Now wait until the light hits her full in the face,” Charlie cautioned. 

Harry took a step back and tripped over Ron. Harry glared and Ron held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry.”

Another step back. 

Then a pause.

Click.

Ron and Charlie gathered around to see. “It doesn’t move,” Ron called out the obvious as they examined the image in the small frame on the camera.

“Huh,” Charlie said, scratching his head. “Maybe you ought to take several in a row. I mean that one isn’t bad, but then you’ll have a selection.”

Harry nodded and tried again .... and again … and again.

“Those aren’t bad,” Ron said several minutes later as they went through Harry’s collection of Norberta. “A couple are pretty good actually.”

“It’s kind of addicting,” Harry said, picking up the camera to take another shot.

“I don’t suppose you want to take a break and come hang out with us as we chase Malfoy all over the UK,” Ron asked his brother as Harry clicked happily away.

“I’m going to be in the Outer Hebrides, the archipelago north of Scotland for a bit. If you make it that far north, let me know.”

“What are you doing up there?”

“A mate of mine, his younger brother disappeared from that area a while ago. Even though he’s kind of a rebellious kid, it still isn’t like him to just take off. A group of us are taking some time off to go after him.”

“There’s a whole rash of disappearances from that area,” Ron said. “Most of them youth. I keep telling Robards that we need to send an investigative team up there to see what’s going on.”

“Yeah, I can see how well that worked, seeings how you are being sent to Paris after Malfoy instead,” Charlie teased.

Ron just shrugged. “Hey, I’m just doing what I’m told.”

“Just be careful,” Harry said, wandering back into the conversation. “Could be this is more than just one disappearance. There’s also the two Death Eaters that escaped from Azkaban a while back on the loose and they could be anywhere.”

“Wait, Death Eaters have escaped from Azkaban? Who got out? When did this happen?” Charlie asked, suddenly very serious.

“Augustus Rookwood and Antonin Dolohov.” Ron explained. “They broke out a few months ago. Rookwood is a nasty piece of work. Got into the heads of the guards with spouses that work in the prison. It looks like he was the one behind the release of the Death Eaters during the war as well.”

Charlie shook his head. “Didn’t Sirius escape Azkaban? Do they have a revolving door in that place or something?”

Harry smirked, “Nothing could hold Sirius once he decided he wanted out.” Talking about his Godfather did not hurt as much as it once had, and he was proud of himself. “They’ve put in a new head warden at Azkaban since the breakout. He’s a good man, and the changes he’s making will really tighten the place up. Someone just needs to find those two and get them back in there.”

“I’m familiar with Dolohov,” Charlie mused. “Big burly guy, they used to call him Mr. Farmer. Loved violence just for the sake of watching someone bleed and was one of the strongest duelers ever to go through Hogwarts.”

“He’s the one that killed Remus, in the final battle” Harry said, his voice breaking a bit.

Charlie nodded and both he and Ron moved closer to lend their support. “That was a tough battle, although as I recall, it was Professor Flitwick that finally took him down.”

Ron nodded. “That’s right. The guy was spitting nails when they hauled him away, demanding a rematch or some nonsense.”

“Remind me not to tick Flitwick off,” Charlie joked. Harry smiled gratefully at the two brothers for lightening the mood. None of them would forget Remus, Fred or any of the others that had fallen in the war. When the subject of those who had been lost came up, they didn’t avoid it, but they did not linger in the loss either.

“So tell me about this other fella, Rookwood was it?”

“That’s right, Augustus Rookwood.” Ron said. “You’d know him if you saw him, I think. He’s got pockmarks and scars all over his face. Loves mental games, twisting you up in your own mind ‘til you don’t know which way is up. I think he got picked up after the battle. Didn’t the Malfoy’s tip the Aurors off on where to find him?”

“Draco did, but that’s not common knowledge.” Harry confirmed. “It’s one of the reasons he got off with such a light sentence even after he let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. With Rookwood out it would be best to keep that information under your hat if you would.”

“Draco Malfoy, now there’s a piece of work,” Charlie said.

Harry shook his head. “He was in a tough spot. Death Eaters living in his home, threatening him and his parents. I’m not saying I agree with his choices, but I definitely would not have wanted to be in his shoes. Besides, your dad said it best. We all have to let the past go, let everyone prove who they are now, or we’ll be fighting the war all over again. He said it better than I did, but the idea is sound. Malfoy’s just trying to live his life. I’m not a fan of us tromping in there breathing down his neck without a good reason.”

Charlie just shrugged. “We’ll see. If he really is a changed man then I’m all for it, just watch your back.”

“You too,” Harry said. “Do you mind if I keep practising with the camera? Unless Ron wants a turn.”

“Naw, I’m good.” Ron waved him off. “I wouldn’t want to get between you and your new love.”

Harry smiled. “I have to admit, this taking pictures thing is addicting,” and with that he wandered off to take more shots of Norberta.


	5. Passion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The music was fantastic, snarky and upbeat and catchy as hell. Malfoy croned into the microphone, his rich voice rumbling down every spine as he sang.
> 
> “ _We used to rule the world…_ ” he sang as the music swelled beneath his voice.
> 
> “ _... but we lost it,_ ” The crowd sang with him.
> 
> “ _The darkness bled us out,_ ” Malfoy sang back.
> 
> “ _… we just watched it,_ ” the crowd responded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have read Passion in Paris you can skip the first section of this if you want as it is a repeat, but don't miss the section at the end which is new.

“I can’t believe you voluntarily got on Norberta’s back,” Ron was still grumbling as they pushed their way into the Paris nightclub. The redhead was a full head above the crowd making it easy to spot him even in the dim lights of the club.

They were both dressed in usual club fair. Harry wore a black mesh shirt, black leather duster and pants while Ron was in tight levi’s and a flowing white shirt. Both men were picking up some interest and Harry found himself tossing out a smile and a wink at a couple of girls as he passed. It was fun and harmless and it had been a while since Harry had an opportunity for either.

Harry shrugged, although the movement was rather lost in the jostling of the crowd. “I got some great shots from up there.”

“You are out of your mind. You were on the back of a Norwiegian Ridgeback… voluntarily… for fun! That camera has driven you right out of your skull.” His volume rose to be heard over the noise of the band currently center stage. “I thought you had calmed down after defeating Voldemort. You walked away from the Aurors, been spending most of your time at home working on your house. ‘Harry has turned over a new leaf’, I told myself. But noooo … not you. You were just waiting, biding your time, lulling me into a false sense of security until BAM! …. A new obsession. A new reason to run around riding on dragons and getting up in the middle of the night and … and …. going out of your mind.”

“Getting up right before sunrise isn’t the middle of the night,” Harry shot back good naturedly, “ and the light is better first thing in the morning.”

“Ha!”

“I got some great pictures of the sunrise.”

“And you had to drag me with you because … ?”

“Well, this is still your assignment.”

“Absolutely out of your mind, “ Ron grumbled again, but it was more of a shout now. As they fought their way towards the stage, it became an increasing struggle to be heard over the noise of the speakers right in front of them. “Hey, don’t you want to get higher up so you can see more of the stage?”

“No, I don’t think so. I think bottom up shots will be more dramatic. I’ve been checking out pictures of famous bands performing and a lot of the best ones are bottom up action shots. I think this is good right here, actually.”

“You sure? You’ll never get a steady shot from down here.”

Harry flashed Ron a mischievous smile  
.  
“What? You didn’t ...” Ron cut himself off and then pulled closer. “You didn’t do anything to the camera did you?”

“It’s minor. I figured it out while I was riding around on Noberta. With the wind and her moving beneath me I was having a hard time keeping things steady. It’s just a little bit of help in case I get jostled.”

Ron scratched the back of his head and squinted at him before sighing and giving in. “We're supposed to be doing things the Muggle way ... but, as long as no one finds out, I’m not sure what harm it will do.”

They pushed forward until they were right at center stage, fairly close up in the mosh pit of pressed bodies bouncing to the music of the band opening for ‘Sly’.

“Why don’t you go find Ms. Lockhart, the ‘Sly’ band tour manager. Tell her we’re here and say we’re sorry for being late.”

“What?,” Ron struggled to stay on his feet pressed in between all of the bodies. He was obviously miserable in the noise and the heat.

“Why don’t you go find Ms. Lockhart?” Harry upped his volume.

“What?!” Ron yelled again.

“Go! Find! Miriam!” Harry bellowed back.

“You! Good! Here?!” Ron yelled.

Harry just nodded and with a wave, Ron allowed himself to be pushed away from the pit area.

With Ron gone, Harry found himself wanting to get caught up in the excitement of the crowd. The beat was good, the adrenaline high and everyone seemed loud and happy. Harry almost felt bad sneaking out his wand and doing a quick diagnostic of the people around him.

Nothing. No active spells. No magical residue from potions. The only thing affecting these people was the energy of being here. Satisfied, Harry stuffed his wand back in his sleeve and gave himself over to just enjoying himself. He smiled and laughed at the people around him who smiled happily back, as they all bounced and danced together. It was marvelous.

The opening act closed up after another song and everyone took a moment to catch their breath. The crowd dispersed a bit and people wandered off to get drinks as the crew started re-arranging the instruments and equipment on the stage.

Harry felt a knot of anticipation start to build. This was it, the first time he would see Malfoy or the other Slytherins since the final battle, the first time he would hear their music. He found himself hopeful for what was to come, hoping the crowd would like them … no, more than that … hoping the crowd would love them.

Harry had never had the opportunity to root for Malfoy, always on the other side of a bitter confrontation, whether Quidditch or House Points or … well everything. But, things were different here. The Slytherin was Harry’s classmate and fellow wizard and Malfoy his and his success was something that would reflect on him too. Harry was truly hoping Robards was wrong, that the Slytherins were not cheating the system, but had found a way to excel despite everything that had been stacked against them.

Everyone poured back into the center area as the lights dimmed. Harry found himself holding his breath. Bodies moved in the darkness. A hush fell over the whole club as they all waited.

There was someone at the drums.

Wooden sticks tapped out a soft beat.

A count.

One. Two. Three.

Loud familiar cords ripped through the quiet of the club. The unmistakable opening to Phantom of the Opera caught everyone off guard, grabbing attention as the unexpected sounds resonated through every chest.

Everyone laughed as the cords died out.

“Blaise.” That was Malfoy’s voice, deep and resonating, washing over the crowd with almost as much power as the chords of the music. People laughed again at the obvious scolding tone in that one word. The lights came up just enough for everyone to see Malfoy, tall and majestic, the microphone in hand as he peered back over his shoulder towards the keyboard and his bandmate.

He was wearing a golden shirt that flowed, undone down to the navel and tight enough in all the right places to leave little to the imagination. Draco’s chest was smooth and nicely curved. He didn’t have Harry’s washboard abs but there was nothing extra on the tuck of his flat tummy. Forest green velvet pants, tied at the waist with a wide sash that shimmered like silk in the club lights and leather boots completed the look. He seemed to transcend common concepts like gender. It was like a godling, one of the heroes of Greek legend, brother to Apollo, friend of Hercules and Perseus, had stepped out of the legends of the ancient past to grace them with his presence.

“Oops,” Blaise responded to Draco with a cheeky grin and the laughter picked up even louder than before. “We’re not playing Phantom today are we?”

“No Blaise.” Malfoy’s voice was patronizing and teasing and charming as hell.

Blaise shrugged and grinned and everyone laughed and cooed at the banter.

“Alright Greg,” Malfoy said, not letting the energy of the moment die. “One more time for the cheap seats over there.”

The crowd went wild.

At the drums, Goyle tapped out the beat …. One, two, three and they were off.

The music was fantastic, snarky and upbeat and catchy. Malfoy crooned into the microphone, his rich voice rumbling down every spine as he sang.

“ _We used to rule the world…_ ” he sang as the music swelled beneath his voice.

“ _... but we lost it,_ ” The crowd sang with him.

“ _The darkness bled us out,_ ” Malfoy sang back.

“ _… we just watched it,_ ” the crowd responded.

It was a conversation, Harry realized. Malfoy and the crowd singing to each other and there were people around him who knew every word.

“ _We didn’t stand  
We didn’t fight  
We watched others bleed and die  
Too scared to defend what was ours by right  
We used to rule the world …_”

“But we lost it,” Harry mouthed along. It did not take a genius to figure out what Malfoy was singing about. While the beat was lively, the feel of the song was intense and filled with pain. They were mourning what they had lost, what they had let slip away and even though the crowd did not understand like Harry did, looking around he saw that everyone in that club was mourning with them.

The feelings were real and powerful and addicting. Harry was swept up in the song, mourning opportunities missed, things that got left behind and lost along the way. It did not matter that his losses were different from Malfoy’s. The true genius of the song was that it didn’t matter. ‘Come mourn with me,’ the song seemed to say, ‘and we will be stronger as we mourn together.’

Harry didn’t know when he started taking pictures, it was almost an extension of the song itself. Shots of Malfoy, moving to the beat of the music, his long white blond hair fanned out around his head like some elegant underwater sea creature. Shots of Goyle and Blaise as they leaned into the music, each intent on the passion they were creating; shots of Pansy, her whole body moving to the beat as she ran the length of the stage with her guitar.

Just when Harry thought he knew what to expect, the song changed. The soft lyrical tones that had overlaid the driving beat suddenly changed to something hard and fierce. Pansy ripped the microphone away from Malfoy and started rapping at an intense pace.

The words were lost to Harry, but the anger and passion was not. He snapped shot after shot of the amazing energy that was Pansy and then turned his camera to the crowd as he realized how many of them knew every word, mouthing, singing, screaming along with her as she drove them into an even greater frenzy of energy and passion.

And while Pansy rapped, Malfoy danced. It was breathtaking and erotic. The blond gyrated wildly behind Pansy, his long, lithe body a physical representation of the music pouring off the stage. Harry could not take his eyes off of him. Sweat darkened his hairline and gleamed on his chest; the shiny green pants almost black with sweat leaving little to the imagination. Malfoy was hard, his aroused state obvious and thrilling on the bright stage as he danced for the crowd. Just like that, the ache in Harry’s chest inspired by the mourning and loss of the song transmuted into something else entirely.

Harry found himself responding and a desire greater than he had ever experienced before rode him. He wanted to catch Malfoy’s wild hair in his fingers and suck the sweat from his neck. It took all of his self control to stop himself from leaping up on that stage and dragging Malfoy’s body against his own. All Harry’s loss and pain seemed to shift as he watched that beautiful body move. He wanted with a strength and passion that shook him to the core. Of all the crazy, adrenaline filled, death defying things Harry had done in his life, nothing felt quite like standing in that packed club, caught up in the magic of wanting Draco Malfoy.

How could anyone resist wanting something so beautiful? The thought broke Harry out of his trance and he pulled his eyes away from the stage. Once more he pulled out his wand and checked the crowd. No magic. No magical ingredients in the air. The spell the ‘Sly’ band was casting over the crowd was completely natural, a combination of charisma and talent.

Harry took a deep breath and acknowledged this new desire that burned in his gut was also perfectly natural. He had broken up with Ginny when he realized neither of them felt the passion they should for the other. Admitting his past interest in Malfoy, his archrival, had never been purely irritation or even platonic had been a first step to accepting his own sexuality. Now he was forced to accept that his feelings ran even deeper.

Harry Potter was no longer the little boy that wanted, powerless to do anything about it. He was the Savior of the Wizarding World, one of the most powerful wizards of his generation. He had fought a war to protect his friends and avenge the death of his parents. He had stood against a powerful villain that had caused a two generations to tremble just at the mention of his name. No, Harry Potter was no longer that weak little boy.

There would be no denial or putting this off, Harry was too self aware for any of that nonsense.

These days, what Harry Potter wanted he got and he wanted Draco Malfoy, body and soul.

oOo

Angry voices could be heard echoing out of the Green room as Harry approached. He braced himself before pushing the door open. Pansy was in a full rant, pacing and yelling and waving her arms about. Ron’s face was almost as red as his face, his hands clenching and unclenching at his side. Goyle and Zabini were standing side by side, arms crossed and hard expressions with Pansy pacing not far from their protective sphere of influence. Draco was off to one side, seated, looking off into space with a blank face. Miriam Lockhart was near the door as Harry came in and pinned him with a hard look as he entered.

“What’s going on?”

“Oh terrific,” Pansy didn’t even lose a beat in her rant. “Just want we need. The great Harry Potter to save the day. Come to rescue the poor Muggles from the evil Slytherins, Potter? Come to show us all how wrong we are with your big bad self? Rub it in our faces again how your lot won and we lost and we should be properly grateful and throw ourselves at your feet?”

“No! What …?” Harry hadn’t expected the band to be happy they were there, but surely this was over the top.

“If you are here to arrest us on spurious charges do it. Otherwise get out.” Pansy pointed to the door

“We’re here to take pictures,” Ron spat back.

Goyle literally rolled his eyes and Draco laughed, low and mocking. Zabini just scowled.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you even bothered with the camera. What, are you so determined to ruin us that if you can’t prove we’re criminals you’ll just do shitty work with the promotional pictures just to take us down. I knew that Robards would do absolutely anything to see us fail, and maybe I am naive but seeing you here trying to undermine us was a shock. You two were supposed to be all about justice and protecting people. This shows who you really are. Willing to do anything to destroy those who are different. Just prejudicial bullies.”

“Wait, no!” Harry objected loudly to being called the very thing he had worked his whole life to stand against. “That’s not what is going on at all!”

Miriam spoke over him, just as loud, “I will not allow either of these two to jeopardize….”

But Pansy was well past listening. She stormed up to Harry and stuck her finger in his face. “We might not be able to stop you from being here, but you can be sure we’re not going to help you. Think you’re so smart, Robards little pets, digging around like grubs in the mud, I’m sure you’ll find something to ‘prove’ we’re cheating. Well, if you are going to make up some prejudicial bullshit to drag us to Azkaban over, that’s on you … “ she took a deep breath “... that’s on you.” Then she pushed past him and stormed out.

Malfoy stood gracefully and ran his hands down his front, smoothing out non-existence wrinkles on his barely there clothing. “Pansy has been eloquent as always. I believe there is nothing left to say.”

Ron shook his head as Harry tried to salvage this, “That’s not what’s going on,” he protested.

Malfoy ignored the protest, looking to Zabini and Goyle as he nodded towards the door. “Stay away from us Potter,” Draco said flatly and then the three men followed Pansy out.

The door hadn’t even fully closed before Miriam Lockhart was rounding on them. “I had thought better of Robards, and I certainly thought better of the two of you. Let me warn you Harry Potter, those pictures you took today had better be amazing, they had better knock my socks off, because as of right now I am looking for any excuse to kick both of you right off the tour.”

Realizing that any additional protesting was fruitless, Harry just held out the SD card out of the camera. Lockhart picked up the card with two fingers and held it between them like a threat. “A - maz - ing,” she said again and shaking her head, walked out.

Ron collapsed into one of the overstuffed chairs. “Wow.”

Harry stood there for a long moment and took a deep breath.

“That was not at all the meeting I was hoping for. What happened? Surely that all can’t be just because we showed up,” Harry asked, finally moving to sit next to him.

“Robards sent them a howler.”

“Are you serious?” Harry stunned by the stupidity of Ron’s boss. “Why would he do that?”

Ron just shook his head. 

Harry ran both hands through his hair. “Is he purposely alienating us or them?”

“It’s never been about us, Harry. He’s got something against Malfoy and … we’ll he’s just unreasonable.”

“I understand being angry, I mean Malfoy’s been known to push me right to the edge a time or two, but Robards is the Head Auror! He can’t let his personal feelings get caught up in the job like this. This erratic behavior… it’s going to drive people to do something stupid … it’s already making things harder than it needs to be even if he is right and the band is enchanting people.”

“You’re right, of course you are right. But what do we do!? He’s my boss Harry. It’s not like I can just tell him he’s being a twat.”

The sat in silence, thinking.

“I think you’re going to have to tell your father.” 

“Dad already said he was going to talk to Kingsley.”

“We need to tell him about the howler though. Sending us to go investigate something that he could justify is suspicious is one thing, but sending Malfoy and the band that howler … there is no justification for that, all that does is make them feel threatened.”

Ron scratched his head and sat back up straight. “He might say that letting them know they were under investigation would make them nervous enough to make a mistake.”

Harry quirked a small grin. “Playing devil’s advocate?”

Ron shrugged. “We both agree that the man has gone around the bend, but is it enough for Kingsley to do anything … I don’t know.”

“Yeah, okay,” Harry said, going back to running his fingers through his hair. “I still think we should keep your dad up to speed though. Never know when that could come in handy.”

“Maybe we should just give this up as a bad job. I mean, you were testing too, right? There was no magic during the whole concert. Seriously, this whole thing is a waste of time.”

Harry just sat there, staring at Ron, turning everything over in his mind.

“What?”

“I don’t want to leave.”

“For Merlin’s sake why? You haven’t changed your mind, have you, about the band enchanting people to like them?”

“No. You’re right about that. This whole thing is a wild goose chase.”

“Then why stay?”

“It’s just …” Harry rubbed the back of his neck and squirmed in his seat.

“What Harry? Is it about the photography? If you want to keep the camera I’m sure Dad wouldn’t mind. We don’t have to stick around for that.”

“No. I mean yes, I’ve really enjoyed taking pictures and I’d love to keep the camera. I can pay your dad whatever he thinks it is worth.”

Ron just waved him off. “Harry, tell me. What’s going on?”

“I just want to stay, see this through. I don’t know, figure out a way to let the band know we’re not here to … you know. That we’re on their side.”

“Uh huh,” Ron gave him a suspicious look. “Is this about Malfoy?”

“I don’t have anything against Malfoy,” Harry instantly defended.

“Oh Lord, this IS about Malfoy.” Ron collapsed back in his chair and let out an exasperated huff. “It’s going to be fifth year all over again, with you following him around like a lost puppy.”

“Hey!”

“Harry, I’ve been your friend since we were eleven. You’ve always been obsessed with what he was doing, what he was wearing, the color of his hair … lordy I can’t even count all the times you went off about his hair. Now that the git has grown it out long you’re going to be impossible to live with.”

“This isn’t about Malfoy’s hair!”

“Oh good, so I can convince him he needs to cut it short again and you won’t mind at all?”

“No! Ummm…. I mean….” Harry dropped his head into his hands. “Can we start this conversation over?”

“Nope,” Ron said, popping his p. “This is going to be fantastic, between them hating our guts and watching you moon over the poncy git, I’m going to be having the time of my life.” But there was no heat in his grumbling.

Harry smiled at him. “You won’t be bored,” he offered.

“You mean it will help keep my mind off of Hermione,” Ron said, cutting right to the heart of things. He stared at the floor for several long moments as Harry watched, aching for his friend. Then Ron took a deep breath. “Yeah, alright. Better than hanging around the Burrow moping I guess and I have to admit, the music ain’t half bad.” Ron slapped the top of his thighs once and then stood up. “Come on best friend ‘o mine, let’s see if we can get the ‘apple of your eye’ to forgive us for existing.”

“The ‘apple of my eye’?” Harry said, but he was smiling.

“Yeah, your darling snookums, your pumpkin pie, your … you get the idea.”

“I’m trying to imagine Draco Malfoy’s expression if anyone had the temerity to actually call him ‘snookums’ to his face.” Harry bumped shoulders with Ron and Ron bumped back as they headed out. Two best friends, side by side, ready to take on the world.

“Better have your camera ready.”


	6. Yearning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That was it. That was the last straw. “I’m going to my room,” Draco announced. “Please come get me when the world has once again returned to normal.” He dropped the picture he was holding back onto the table and swept out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a present to all of you, Christmas and otherwise if Christmas isn't your thing, this chapter has a little of everything.

“Is that from Charlie?” Harry asked, coming up behind Ron and leaning over his shoulder.

Ron shifted the parchment over so his best friend could see. “Yeah. The owl dropped it off this morning.”

“How’s the hunt for the kid brother?”

“He says they’ve made some headway, but no real leads yet. I guess a bunch of the kids that disappeared have been hanging around the same group of malcontents. You know, anti-government, anti-parents, anti-everything types. Not all of them, but enough he thinks there is something to it.”

“You’d rather be there than here.” Harry said.

“I mean, wouldn’t you?” Ron asked, turning around to face him. “That’s why I joined the Aurors, to make a difference. Instead, I’m here hanging out with band groupies and my dragon taming brother is off hunting down missing kids. Life’s just not fair.”

“Nothing wrong with groupies. Or bands.”

“Or dragon taming,” Ron agreed. “Although it would be easier if the band in question wasn’t treating us like we’ve got the plague.”

Harry dropped down into the chair next to him. “Yeah.”

“You alright?”

Harry just shrugged. 

“Harry? Talk to me.”

“It just always feels like we’re on the outside looking in, you know? No matter how many battles we fight, or how many times we take the high ground and try to do the right thing...”

Ron sighed and nodded. “We’re always on the outside looking in.”

“Yeah,” Harry said again. “It would be nice if someone else had to make the hard call just once, that it wasn’t always us prying doors open with our fingernails.”

“Hey don’t look at me, my nails are a wreck from all of those doors.” Ron teased and Harry smiled back.

“Mine too.”

“Do you want to leave? We can go tell Robards’ there is nothing to find and bail on this any time we want.”

“No, I’m not ready to give up just yet. I’m not sure how we’re going to change things, or where to go from here, but … I don’t want to leave yet.”

Ron nodded and stood. “Well I’ve had enough sitting around here. I’m going to go find something to do. Wanna come?”

“No thanks. I’m going to spend some time working with the camera. Assuming Lockhart lets us stay, I’ll like to feel a bit more like I knew what I was doing.”

Ron patted Harry’s shoulder as he passed. They had all arrived in Cambridge the night before. Harry and Draco had found a spot to Apparate to since the band absolutely refused to let them anywhere near the tour bus, and found a B & B nearby to use as their home base for the day. The techs were already working on setting up for the performance and with nothing else really going on, Ron went to check out what they were doing.

“You looking to see what you can sabotage?”

Ron didn’t even bother to look up at Pansy from where he was hunched over with the pyrotechnics lead. “Are you kidding? This is fascinating. It’s almost as good as what George is doing at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.”

Pansy hunkered down next to them. “You’re a Weasley. Of course you would be interested in things that explode.”

“Look at that,” Ron pointed. “He’s using hook up wires to ignite the components. Then he hides them so no one knows they are there.”

The tech gave Ron an odd look. “What does your brother use, if he doesn’t use wires?”

“Oh, um. Not sure,” Ron sputtered.

Pansy rolled her eyes at him before pulling him to his feet. “Come on, let’s get you out of here before you get yourself in trouble.”

“Some of the stuff he is using I didn’t even know was flammable,” Ron said, looking back over his shoulder at the tech who was still watching them.

Pansy pushed him up against a wall to get his attention. It was an obvious effort pushing his much larger frame around even though he wasn’t resisting her. “Look, what are you doing here. Surely you’ve had enough time to manufacture whatever evidence Robards wants you to plant. Why aren’t you off with your girlfriend.”

The mention of Hermione got Ron’s attention right quick. He took a breath and shook his head. “She’s not … we’re not together any more.”

“She dump you?” Pansy sounded more than a bit incredulous and Ron could not resist the small smile and the implied compliment.

“I … no .. I left her … I guess … but …” he stuttered.

“What?”

“She thought I was too clingy,” Ron said with a shrug even as he crossed his arms across his chest, feeling defensive.

“Wouldn’t let her out of your sight?” Pansy asked.

“No.”

“Had to know where she was at all times?”

“No!”

“Got angry if she was late to a date or two?”

“I would have been happy if she had shown up at all.” Ron grumped. “She was too busy working to have time to spend with me.”

“She pull ten hour days pretty regularly?”

“Ten? I loved it when she was only putting in ten hours a day!”

Pansy shrugged. “Doesn’t sound like you were too clingy to me. Sounds to me like she was committed to something else, namely her job.”

“Really?” Ron said, dropping his arms and his smile was back. “You mean it?”

“Why do you care what I think?” Pansy asked him with a narrow-eyed look.

“Well, because I’m pretty sure you’re not going to lie to protect my feelings.”

“Given the way I went off on you earlier, I’d say that’s pretty accurate.” They exchanged an amused look. 

“It’s nice to get an unbiased opinion. Breaking up… well it’s hard ... hard not to feel like I don’t measure up. I mean my best friend is Harry Potter. I adore the git, but standing in his shadow is a bit … I don’t know. It’s hard. He’s a tough act to follow on the best of days. Sometimes it’s hard to know if I’m doing alright, just being me. And then to have Hermione tell me that I’m too much… “

Pansy reached out and laid her hand on Ron’s arm. “Middle child syndrome.”

“What?”

“I’ve got it too. Middle child syndrome. And boy, you’re getting it from all sides. Middle child at home, middle child between Harry and Hermione, it’s hard to figure out how to stand out when it feels like everyone else has a leg up.”

“Yeah, that’s it exactly.” Ron nodded. “You’ve got it too.”

Pansy shrugged. “Why do you think I learned how to rap? Mother hates it, but when she’s yelling about it, at least I have her attention.”

“You think I have middle child whatsit with Harry and Hermione?” Ron said, still working it out in his head.

“I’ve had boyfriends like Hermione. Draco was like that in school, always wanted me available when he needed someone hanging off his arm, otherwise I was just an obstacle in his quest to take down the great Harry Potter.”

Ron laughed. “Yeah, Harry was pretty bad when it came to Draco too.” He tossed Pansy a bit of a mischievous look. “I wonder if Draco’s obsession was for the same reason.”

“What reason?” Pansy asked, looking confused and intrigued.

“Well Harry thinks…” Ron paused and looked around like he was checking for eavesdroppers. Then he pulled Pansy close to whisper in her ear. “Harry thinks his obsession with Malfoy was because he liked him, but hadn’t figured it out yet.”

“Harry likes!!!” Pansy nearly shouted ... Ron shushed her, putting his finger against her lips. She continued in a rather loud whisper. “Harry likes Draco? You’re having me on.”

“No, it’s true,” Ron whispered back with a giggle. “I mean it makes sense doesn’t it. I don’t know anyone who puts as much energy into each other as those two did that were not already in a committed relationship.”

“Draco did stay up all night making those ‘Potter Stinks’ badges,” Pansy said slowly.

“And the next year, fifth year, I swear Harry followed Draco around everywhere he went.”

Pansy grinned. “It was probably because Draco was distracted with fixing the cabinet all year and not paying attention to him.”

“Harry’s kind of clingy.”

“So’s Draco,” and they both giggled like school children, their foreheads pushed together. 

Ron found himself gazing into pale blue eyes, inches from his own. When he spoke again, his tone carried the weight of a serious confession. “So am I.”

Pansy answered with a soft smile. “Me too.”

The moment held between them. Quiet and long and sweet they stood, staring into each other’s eyes, with sweet expressions on their faces. 

A crash from behind Pansy had them both looking away.

Pansy tucked a strand of hair behind her ear before looking up at Ron from beneath her lashes. “Do you want to come check out the tour bus? The bans on magic don’t apply there since no one goes in but us. Draco spared no expense and the whole thing is magically expanded, one of the largest hidden living spaces outside of Grimmauld Place. It’s pretty sweet.”

“I do, I really do, but Harry would kill me.”

Pansy gave him a confused look.

“Harry’s got this thing about being left out. He wasn’t an only child, but the people who raised him didn’t want him. He was left out of pretty much everything. It’s hard on him now, being on the outside and looking in. If I got on the tour bus while he still wasn’t allowed, … well, it would hurt him.”

“You’re a good friend.” Pansy said with a smile and Ron beamed back at her. “If you’re both good, maybe you’ll both get an invitation to check it out.”

Ron picked up her hand and pressed it with a swift kiss. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’ll see you later.”

“I’m looking forward to that more.”

oOo

Draco had been staring at Pansy for the past ten minutes across the dining room of the tour bus and she had yet to notice. “Pansy, why are you humming?”

“Am I humming?” Pansy asked, distracted and with a soft smile on her face that Draco hadn’t seen her wear, ever.

Draco’s eyes narrowed at her but before he could follow up, Greg burst in through the bus door singing full out. “Oh what a beautiful morning! Oh what a beautiful day!” He was off key, one arm swept out in front of him as he danced across the room. “I have a date!” he yelled as he got into the center of the room.

Pansy’s delighted giggle had Draco’s gaze snapping back to her.

“You’re both under a curse,” Draco concluded in horror.

“With who?” Pansy asked Greg, ignoring Draco.

“One of the girls who has been following us around.”

“Your dating one of the groupies?” Draco collapsed back into his chair, his legs failing to hold him up.

“Oh darling, that’s marvelous. I’m so happy for you!”

Greg and Pansy both beamed at each other while Draco mentally reviewed every counter curse he knew.

A moment later Blaise stormed in, stomped across the area Greg had just danced through and collapsed in a huff into a chair.

“Well thank Merlin someone is acting normal,” Draco exclaimed.

“What’s going on?” Blaise asked, looking up for the first time.

“These two,” Draco said, his tone ladened with disgust, “are singing.”

Blaise blinked at him. “Draco. We’re a band. Singing is what we do.”

Draco glared back.

The brilliant retort he was working on was cut off when Miriam swug through the doors, a merry smile on her lips. “You’re all here!” she said with more enthusiasm than the situation warranted. “I have fantastic news.”

“The world as we know it is ending,” Draco grumbled.

“I said fantastic news, dear. Do keep up,” Miriam said.

With a wave she spread out something across the large wooden table in the center of the room.

“What’s this?” Draco asked as they all gathered around.

“These, my darling beautiful boy, are the pictures Harry Potter took of our first concert.”

Draco snatched one up. “Are they a hot mess? Can we officially kick him off the tour?”

“On the contrary, they are …”

“Oh Draco,” Pansy breathed. “These are breathtaking.”

“Yes, they are fabulous,” Miriam agreed.

“What?” Draco stared down at the images in confusion. He was holding an amazing shot of himself and Pansy. She was singing, her expression intense and focused; he was dancing and his hair, shimmering in the light, was whipping around his head while his body twisted to the beat. Draco could almost feel the music coming off the page. The lighting hid as much of his face as it showed, teasing and revealing, while Pansy was fully lit and magnificent in her fierce defiance of the world. For a moment, Draco found he could not breath as he stared down at the passion expressed in this one shot.

“I have already posted several of the really good ones out on social media, which have caused a firestorm of interest. The best ones I’m holding onto for posters and fliers and such,” Miriam was explaining but Draco barely heard her.

“These are really good.” Blaise sounded as confused as Draco felt.

“I thought he was only joking,” Pansy murmured, which was such a weird thing to say Draco could not let it pass.

“What are you talking about?”

“Ron, he said … well he said that Harry had a crush on you. I didn’t believe him at the time, but looking at these pictures, I think he was right.”

That was it. That was the last straw. “I’m going to my room,” Draco announced. “Please come get me when the world has once again returned to normal.” He dropped the picture he was holding back onto the table and swept out.

oOo

Draco barely waited for the sun to go down before he was sneaking out of the bus, his clubbing clothes hidden beneath his Bestaff coat. He did not want company tonight. He was having a hard enough time dealing with himself, dealing with anyone else just seemed impossible. “Harry Potter has a crush on you,” Pansy’s voice taunted him from inside his own skull. It was impossible, improbable and most certainly not true, but the words continued to haunt his steps.

Draco was not thinking about Harry Potter. He was absolutely NOT thinking about Harry Potter. Why would Harry Potter have a crush on him? It was ridiculous. Draco Malfoy, the son of a convicted Death Eater, the man Harry himself had called his arch-enemy, … no, the whole thing was absurd. He and Harry had never exchanged a civil word in the entire time they had known each other. Pansy was delusional and Draco was not thinking about this anymore.

…

The whole thing was crazy. Harry Potter was a war hero. A couple of months ago, the Daily Prophet had listed him as their number one pick for most eligible bachelor. Draco had not even made the list. He was a nobody in comparison, an outcast forced to play stupid games with Aurors and the Wizengamot just to keep his dignity. Surely Draco’s life was too much of a mess … surely Draco himself was too broken for Harry to have any interest in him.

The walk to the nearest club was too short and did nothing to clear Draco’s head. He ditched his coat and took to the floor, hoping the pounding beat of the music would help. He was ignoring the small voice in his head whispering “what if…?”. It sounded far too much like a much younger version of himself, the eleven year old dreaming of a new friend, of someone who could help him.

Draco pushed all of it away as he danced, allowing himself to get lost in the music. Here he was another anonymous face in the crowd, here he could vent his pain and fear and sorrow in the dance, here he had nothing to hide, he could just be. His movements were wild and out of control, a perfect imitation of all that was going on inside of him.

He had not been dancing long when a pair of strong arms slid around him from behind and suddenly Draco’s dance became something else. He did not look back, not wanting to break the spell being wrapped around him. Where his hips and arms had been telling a story of brutal defiance against the world, now the form behind him echoed back a harmony of comfort and support. Tenderly caressing hands softened his movements, never stopping or hindering. The energy of the night changed from desperate denial to a calm so powerful, it swept everything else away. Draco had not known until that moment how much he needed the calm he found in the arms of a stranger.

At least he thought it was a stranger. When the music finally paused Draco turned to face his partner and saw the last face on earth he would have ever expected.

“Potter,” he breathed.

“I saw you sneak off the bus and…” Harry trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish expression.

“No,” Draco breathed, backing away. “No, no, no, no, no.”

Harry reached after him but Draco couldn’t … he couldn’t. Breaking away, Draco darted off the floor and into the night. He heard Harry call after him and the small boy deep inside begged him to stop but he couldn’t … he COULDN’T!!

Hours later, as Draco watched the sun rise over the streets he had walked restlessly all night, he admitted one thing, if only to himself; maybe Harry Potter did have a crush on him.


	7. Attacking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pansy had crumbled against the power of the mind that invaded hers. It ripped through her defenses, pushing its way in and in and in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The mental assault listed in the warnings is depicted in this chapter. If this is something you want to avoid scroll down to the bottom comments where I have provided a quick summary of events and then skip down to the first section break 'oOo' to pick back up again.
> 
> Everyone has things they just can't handle reading. Don't feel bad if you need to skip a section for your mental health. This is supposed to be fun. If it's not fun, don't do it.

The morning they arrived in Manchester, Pansy slipped away early to go shopping. They had spent four days and performed three shows in Cambridge and the level of interest they had generated in the town was insane. Potter’s pictures had taken them from a hot ticket item to a national sensation in what felt like overnight. Miriam was bemoaning the fact they had not rented out theaters and was scrambling to switch out locations to larger venues. They had barely been able to leave the tour bus without being accosted by fans.

Despite everything going so well, Draco was annoyed with everyone. He was still insisting that this is all somehow part of a plot by Potter to undermine them, although he could not seem to explain exactly how their increased popularity would do that. What seemed to really upset him was the intense stare Potter would pin him with for the entire concert. Draco said it was because it unnerved him but Pansy had a feeling it was more that Potter was making him uncomfortable and not in a bad way. 

But Draco’s ire was not limited to his old rival. Blaise got more social interaction than he was really up for just being on the stage and spent the rest of every day hidden away in his room playing his piano, which was enough to send Draco into an outrage as that removed his only viable partner in misery. 

Greg and his new girlfriend were sickening, as Draco repeatedly informed anyone who would listen. Greg’s new favorite pastime was lifting weights in his room to the beat of their own music while his girlfriend oo’d and ahh’d at him. He was dressed all in black, when he got dressed at all, and the eyeliner he wore was tastefully done; apparently his girlfriend was a bit of a makeup diva. Pansy was forced to admit he might be going a bit over the top, but he seemed happy. The new muscles he was sporting as he walked around the tour bus half dressed, however, were making Pansy a bit uncomfortable. This was Greg after all. That he might have a body worth noticing was not something she had ever considered and quite frankly never wanted to.

Even Pansy herself had fallen under Draco’s temper. Ron had battled his way to the tour bus door every morning bearing chocolates and flowers and danish pastries. The first day he had shown up, Draco had nearly blown a gasket, although it did not stop him from taking his fair share of the pastries. That Pansy and Ron were working their way up to a proper date had not escaped anyone’s notice. Draco would go off about consorting with the enemy and Pansy would sit quietly and file her nails until he was done. Then, leaving a kiss on his cheek, she would head off to her own room to owl Ron about how much she enjoyed the chocolates and his smiles.

The two of them had managed to meet a couple times inside the club where they were performing, before a show. Pansy would spend a few minutes venting her justifiable frustration with Draco and Ron would grumble about Harry's pinning and they would stand really close together and hold hands and smile and flirt. Draco might be miserable, but Pansy was having the time of her life.

Still, there was only so much of being cooped up that a girl could take before she just had to go shopping. The tour bus pulled in as the first rays of the sun were coming out. Manchester was too big a city to ever really sleep, but the early morning was as close as it came and Pansy took full advantage of the new town and the hope that their fans had not yet figured out that they had moved. 

Miriam had warned them not to go out alone but Pansy knew for a fact that Draco snuck out before she did. She had not gone more than a few blocks before she saw Ron and Harry out and about as well. She waved, they waved back and she continued on her way. She had too much to do before the city really woke up to allow a man to gum up the works, even one as cute as Ron. Besides, it looked like Harry was on the hunt. She was pretty sure she had seen Draco disappear in the same direction.

Pansy was humming as she walked. It was a bright, clear day with a chill in the air that made one want to walk briskly. There were others on the street, but not so much that it was crowded. Pansy was rummaging through her purse as she walked, making sure she had muggle money handy, when the attack came.

Someone came up behind her and slipped an arm through hers. A sharp jab of a something in her ribs, too sharp to be a finger (a wand?), a threatening whisper “not a word, little miss,” and then she was being shuffled into an alley. Never one to do as she was told, Pansy immediately dragged in a huge lungful of air and screamed at the top of her lungs. 

“Ron!”

She was cut off as her attacker cast a familiar spell: “Legilimens!” 

Pansy had crumbled against the power of the mind that invaded hers. It ripped through her defenses, pushing its way in and in and in. Pansy cried out but she could not tell if the sound made it past her lips.

It hurt! 

The invasion into her innermost thoughts felt like knives tearing away at her, filleting her skin from her muscle and bone, leaving her open and exposed to the ravagings of the demon who held her captive.

Get out! Get out! Pansy struggled and pushed only to retreat again against the relentless force that held her.

The attacking mind ripped out as suddenly and painfully as it had sliced into her. She gasped for breath and fell to her knees as her attacker dashed away. It took her a moment for her brain to catch up to what she was hearing. 

Shouts. 

Someone was coming.

She looked up as Ron dropped down in front of her.

“Ron?” Someone else called from the main street. Harry. That was Harry she could hear.

Ron tipped her head back gently, cast a quick spell and looked into her eyes. Pansy did not know what he was looking for, but he seemed to have found it. He turned back to Harry to shout, “she’s alright! Go after him!”

Harry vanished so fast Pansy never saw him move.

The next moment, all Pansy could see was Ron’s chest as he wrapped her up in his strong, warm arms. “It’s alright Pansy, I’ve got you. It’s over.”

She believed him. 

Just like that, her body relaxed its defenses and she started to cry. Loud ugly sobs tore out of her chest that she struggled to breath around. Her body pour out the horrible trauma through tears and convulsing muscles.

It was a while before Pansy was aware anyone else was there. Draco kneeling next to her in the dirt and muck, a quiet witness to her pain. She sniffed as she tentatively poked her head out of the haven of Ron’s arms. Draco handed her a handkerchief. 

“Legilimency?” Draco asked quietly. The tears started flowing down Pansy’s cheeks again and she clenched her teeth against the anguished wail that wanted to be released. That appeared to be enough of an answer. He looked up at Ron. “We need to get her to a mind healer.”

Ron nodded. “I’m waiting for Harry. If he caught the guy, we might have more to work with. It won’t make any difference as far as the treatment and she obviously needed a minute before dealing with St Mungo’s.”

Draco and Pansy exchanged a look. “They should have mind healers here in town,” Draco protested.

“The ones in London are the best. I don’t want some quack rummaging through her brain. She’s already been through enough.”

Draco’s mouth twisted up. He was obviously trying to work out how to explain to one of the ‘Golden Trio’ why those who came out of the war famous for all the wrong reasons currently avoided St. Mungos.

“They don’t really like us there.” Draco admitted.

Ron stared at Draco, puzzled for a moment. Then his face cleared as he obviously got it. “They will today,” Ron assured them. “Today they are going to love you.”

It was obvious that Draco was still reluctant, but Pansy did not have the strength to do anything but put her faith in Ron.

Ron was as good as his word. He and Harry hovered over Pansy obsessively, making it very clear to anyone who even got close to her that she was important to them, and anyone who treated her with less than their best would answer to them. Draco looked as dazed as Pansy felt as he got swept up in the whole procession. He was called Mr. Malfoy in respectful tones by everyone after the first sneer resulted in Harry tearing into a poor nurse hard enough that the poor guy would probably feel his ears ringing for a week. 

Pansy felt loved and cared for in a way she could not remember ever experiencing before. Snuggling down into the warm blankets Ron had wrapped around her, content with his arm around her shoulders, Pansy could almost forget the horror that had come before. She felt precious. It was a heady feeling to have someone’s complete attention on her in such a personal way. Ron was putting her needs above everything else, above his own comfort, he was defending her and protecting her. These were not things Pansy was used to, but she wanted them … oh how she wanted.

There in the midst of the hustle and bustle of the magical hospital, Pansy tugged on Ron until he bent down into range. Then she leaned up and laid her lips on his. It was a chaste kiss, but the tingles and joy that burst along her skin were as intense as anything she had ever felt. She pulled back and smiled at his dazed look. “Thank you,” she said softly.

He pushed her hair back behind her ear and smiled like the sun had come out. “My pleasure,” he said, and Pansy believed him. Believing Ron was becoming a habit.

oOo

Gawain Robards voice was familiar to Draco. Like the rattle of a poisonous snake or the cackle of a mad witch, it caused an instant visceral reaction in his body to fight or flee, preferably to flee. He looked at Pansy, but still wrapped up in her new lover’s arms, she seemed obvious to the world. Draco was glad. His childhood girlfriend had been through enough today. Moving slowly so as not to disturb them, Draco slipped from the room. Ron looked up once as he reached the door, nodding once at him but did nothing to try and stop him.

Draco followed the sound of raised voices, both of which he recognized now that he was a bit closer. Robards was arguing with Harry Potter. Draco knew first hand that behavior never ended well. Potter was not one to lose.

“What do you mean they aren’t doing anything wrong!” Robards was bellowing. “They’ve got half of England throwing money at them!”

“When a band is good, that’s not unusual.” Potters voice was low but his annoyance was clear in his tone.

“Don’t give me that.” Robards shot back, his voice still echoing down the hall. “They’re Slytherins. Pampered little rich snobs. They can’t possibly be good.”

“You’re wrong, Robards. They are good, not just good, they’re great. I’m not going to get into an argument with you about how that came to be, that’s just the way it is. They are not cheating, the level of attention the ‘Sly’ band is receiving is perfectly reasonable given the performance.” Potters volume started to go up at the end.

Draco peaked around the corner to make sure that what he was hearing was in fact reality. Seeing it did not make it seem any more real. Harry Potter was standing in the middle of St. Mungo’s defending Draco’s band against Robards.

“By Merlin’s beard, they’ve got you under their spell as well, haven’t they.” Robards sneered. “They’re like a disease, anyone who comes in contact is infected.” 

“That’s ridiculous, Robards, and you know it. I’ve thrown off the imperius curse. Nothing so faint that it can’t even be detected is going to have any impact on me at all. You’re wasting Ron’s time and Auror resources that could be put to better use, like tracking down whoever attacked Ms. Parkinson.”

“‘Ms. Parkinson’, listen to you. It’s obvious the whole thing was staged, faked to encourage your sympathies. I can’t go sending Aurors after every random lovers quarrel. I’ve already got Shacklebolt breathing down my neck about those two missing Death Eaters.”

Harry looked like he was gritting his teeth in frustration. “Look, do whatever you are going to do Robards, but I will not help you undermine Malfoy’s success and you can be sure I am going to stick close enough to them to make sure no one else does either.”

“Now listen here Potter …” Robards started but Harry interrupted him.

“No, you listen to me. If you won’t let your Aurors do their job in tracking down dangerous criminals then I’ll call in some favors and handle it myself. You’d better leave, Robards. Ms Parkinson has had a very traumatic experience and I won’t let you anywhere near her.”

The two men glared at each other, Robards a pale angry little man versus Harry Potter, Savior of the Wizarding world. It was no surprise who backed down first. 

Draco eased fully around the corner he had been hiding behind as Robards stormed away down the corridor. He was not sure of his welcome, to be honest, as Harry (when had he started thinking of him as Harry?) turned to face him, looking angry and frustrated.

“He can’t even get his story straight,” Harry ranted, and Draco didn’t bother pretending like he hadn’t heard. “Am I enspelled or blind, was the attack staged or a lover’s quarrel. He doesn’t seem to care about the truth at all, as long as he’s right and you’re wrong.”

Harry stood there, breathing hard in anger and upset, his broad shoulders rising and falling, the muscles in his arms flexing as his hands clenched and unclenched. 

Draco had to drag his eyes away. “Thank you, for standing up for us.”

“It’s no more than you deserve,” Harry responded as though it wasn’t such an unbelievable thought that Slytherins that had got caught up in Voldemort’s web still deserve respect.

Draco did not know how to begin to respond to that. Everything had been so different from what he expected lately. He kept being surprised in a good way, things kept working out better than he had hoped and it was freaking him out. Good surprises were just was not the way life worked out for him. 

“You told Robards that you were going to investigate Pansy’s attacker yourself.”

“I did.” 

Harry pulled himself together and stood there quietly, not appearing to be the least bit impatient with Draco’s long silence or his change of topic. His bright green eyes were sharp and focused only on Draco. It was a heady feeling. This was how Harry had watched him during the concerts. It made Draco twitchy and nervous and yet he thought maybe he could spend the rest of his life under that intense gaze and be perfectly happy.

Draco took a deep breath, suddenly shaky, and tried to keep his focus on the attack. “I saw him, the man who attacked Pansy. He ran past me.” And then, quietly, “I know him, recognize him I mean.”

Harry stepped forward and put his hands on Draco’s arms, steadying him. Draco was grateful for the strength. “Who was it?”

Draco met that brilliant gaze squarely. “Augustus Rookwood.”

Harry caught his breath. “One of the two escaped Death Eaters.”

Draco nodded.

“What would he want with Pansy?”

Harry believed him. Draco struggled not to burst into relieved laughter. He had been so sure, even with Harry’s defense of them against Robards, that he would dismiss what Draco had seen. But he had not even hesitated, simply accepting what he said as true.

“I don’t know,” Draco confessed and with his relief, his mouth open and everything he had been thinking since the attack came pouring out. “I had been expecting someone to show up. Right after the trial, or after the escape. I was so sure that with Father’s position among Voldemort’s inner circle and my own unfortunate involvement that someone would try and recruit me. I’ve kept an eye on Greg as well, since he is as likely to be approached as I am,” Draco paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “So, I was expecting that; either a blackmail attempt or a push to provide resources. Something like that. but this doesn’t make any sense to me at all. Why Pansy? Her family wasn’t involved, at least not in any substantial way. The only reason Pansy ended up on trial was because she had the balls to suggest turning you over to Voldemort to save everyone else. Umm… sorry. No offense,” Draco said with a slightly sheepish turn up of his lips.

Harry’s lips quirked up as well and he shrugged. “It was a tough time. I don’t blame anyone for trying to survive. You really can’t think of any reason why Rookwood would attack Pansy?”

Draco shook his head. “He’s a Legilimens expert, taught the subject at one point. He attacked her mind, so he was looking for something, searching for something he thinks she knows that he needs.”

“Like what?”

“I have no idea.”

oOo

The four of them all stood at the Apparition spot, the energy that had sustained them to this point evaporating into the early morning mist.

Finally Ron cleared his throat. “You can rest in our B&B if you need a place to stretch out.”

Pansy and Draco both chuckled. “Come on, you two,” Draco said, breaking the stasis and heading off towards the lot where the bus was parked. “I’ll let you judge for yourself whether Pansy needs more room than what she has on the tour bus.”

Ron and Harry shared their own look, one of excitement and relief and then hurried to catch up. 

Walking into the bus was like entering another world, one that neither Ron nor Harry had ever been a part of. The white tiled floor with its tasteful mosaic seemed to repel the dirt from their shoes even as they walked across it. The large crystal chandelier in the center of the arch way dominated vaulted ceilings of a height similar to those in the Great Hall at Hogwarts surrounded by intricate crown moldings. Everything shimmered a pale gold and was open and bright, catching the morning sun from a series of windows across the ceiling that opened up into the heavens. It was breath-taking.

“Blimey,” Ron breathed. 

“Our whole Bed and Breakfast could fit inside this room alone.” Harry admitted.

Draco smiled, obviously pleased with their reactions. “Let’s get Pansy tucked in and then I’ll give you the grand tour,” he said.

While the bus was reminiscent of the Wizarding tents with their expansion spells, saying they were the same was like comparing Harry’s tiny room under the stairs at the Dursley’s with Hogwarts. The bus was on a different scale entirely, complete with house elves scuttling about. 

Ron raised his eyebrows at that and Draco shrugged. “They’re Malfoy Manor elves. I did ask for volunteers, but it turned into a fight about who would have to stay home with mum. They all wanted to come.”

Ron shook his head. “Yeah, I can see that. I wouldn’t have wanted to miss this either.”

Ron elected to skip the tour in favor of making sure Pansy got settled alright. Draco and Harry knew when they weren’t wanted and left the two of them to it.

Draco led him to a large cherry wood room, with golden mandalas carved on the walls and ceiling. The room itself was dominated by a large bar with two high leather chairs. It was just perfect for a cosy chat pulled up to the bar being served the latest fashion in Wizarding Alcohol.

Harry could not resist a laugh. “Wow.”

Draco smile was the brightest Harry had ever seen as he waved the house elf behind the bar away and took his place. “What are you having?”

“Surprise me,” Harry said, knowing that to ask for a Butterbeer would be an insult to the room and a missed opportunity he would never forgive himself over.

When Draco flicked his wand and four bottles began pouring into a shaker.. 

“Bourbon, Curaçao triple sec, cranberry juice, lime.” Draco identified them. “The Bourbon is from my personal stash Potter, so you better appreciate it.”

“What is it?” Harry asked, reaching out towards the Bourbon, which kindly floated right into his hand. It was a square glass bottle, clear with a black label. The writing appeared to be in Mandarian. 

“Hibiki 21 Year Old.”

The name meant nothing to Harry, but he could guess that it would mean something to someone who knew Bourbon. “Do I want to know how much this is a bottle?”

“Probably not,” Draco said, taking the bottle and replacing it with a glass. “I took a bit of a risk here. Let me know if you like it.” 

The fruit flavor of the Bourbon burst across Harry’s palette, calmed immediately by the citrus with a mild sweet flavor on top.

“It’s good,” Harry assured him. “Better than good.”

“It packs a strong punch,” Draco warned when Harry took a larger sip

“Are you trying to get me drunk Malfoy?” Harry teased and then nearly slapped a hand over his mouth. Given Draco’s reaction to Harry at the club he was certain any flirtatious behavior would be unwanted. “I’m sorry, Draco. This stuff may have hit me faster than I expected.” He put his glass back down on the bar and slid it away.

“No, it’s alright. Actually yes, I was hoping to have you loosened up a bit before I …” Draco pushed away from the bar, running his hands through his hair. “I need to apologize. For a lot of things, actually.”

Harry slipped from his chair and stood as well, the solid black bar still between them, a barrier but also a comfort. “If you are talking about school then let it go. I have.”

“Have you?” Draco met Harry’s eyes, his own wide and a bit lost.

“It was an impossible situation that should have never been left to a bunch of kids to sort out. Am I happy with the choices you made?” Harry shrugged, “Not really, but I don’t envy the situation you found yourself in. It’s over. We survived it. That’s enough for me.”

Draco opened his mouth but the sound of the door banging open cut him off.

“You’re alright!” Miriam burst through the door in a whirlwind. She threw herself at Draco, wrapping herself around him. “They said you had been attacked, ended up in hospital, oh I would never forgive myself if anything ever happened to you kids.”

‘Kids?’ Harry mouthed at Draco, who shrugged back.

She turned on Harry without letting Draco get so much as a word in edgewise. “Harry Potter, if I find out that this is in any way your fault you will be out so fast it will make your head spin.”

“Miriam …” Draco tried to interrupt.

“These kids have been through enough already without getting dragged into whatever horrid trauma you seem to attract wherever you go.” Miriam glared at Harry as though he were evil incarnate while Harry pushed back, hands raised in a show of surrender.

“Miriam …” Draco tried again.

“Don’t you worry Draco we’ll …” Miriam plowed right on but Draco had had enough.

“MIRIAM!” He interrupted. It was enough to startle her into silence. “Pansy was the one who was attacked.” Draco explained in a more reasonable tone. “She is resting. Harry and Ron scared the bludger off and then made sure she got the treatment she needed at St. Mungos. She was very lucky they were there.”

“Well,” Miriam sniffed, “if that’s true, I’m glad to hear it.” She turned back to Harry without even missing a beat. “If you are going to be here anyway I will expect you to personally ensure the safety of the band going forward.” Harry found himself dizzy over the speed Miriam changed from threatening him to ordering him around.

“Great.” Blaise’ dry voice came from the doorway. The tall piano player was leaning against the frame, watching the show. “Just what we need, Harry Potter even further in our business.”

“I will have you all safe.” Miriam said, warming to her new subject. “And Harry Potter is the best in the business. Aren’t you Harry?”

Harry just shrugged, wondering what had happened to the ‘horrid trauma you attract wherever you go’ comment. 

Taking down Voldemort as a teenager did not necessarily mean he was the best security in the business, but he wasn’t going to argue the point. As the conversation with Draco seemed to be well and truly over for the moment it did give him an excellent out. “I’d best get to it then,” he said, getting up. It wasn’t even remotely a lie. Since Robards seemed to be of no value there were a few favors Harry needed to call in and a manhunt to organize. 

Draco was watching him; his silver grey eyes, sharp with interest, felt like a physical weight across his skin as he moved. It was heady and not at all unpleasant.

“Draco, can we continue this later?”

Draco nodded, his expression serious. “You’re welcome anytime, Potter.”

“Great.” Blaise said with even more sarcasm than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who skipped the first section of this chapter here is a summary of events:
> 
> Pansy goes shopping. She sees Draco, Harry and Ron out and about as well. She is attacked by an unknown assailant and gets a cry out to Ron before having her mind invaded by a Legilimens spell. Ron and Harry scare the attacker off and while Harry runs off in pursuit Ron and Draco take care of Pansy. They take her to St. Mungos for evaluation where Ron and Harry ensure that Pansy and Draco are well treated.
> 
> To pick back up scroll up to the first instance of 'oOo' and start from there.


	8. Investigating (Bus-napping)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you saying that you saw this man right here talking to the bus driver for ‘Sly’ yesterday.” Harry clarified.
> 
> “Yes, absolutely. Why? Is he in trouble?”
> 
> Rookwood had been talking to the bus driver. The bus driver had the itinerary for the entire tour, including … including the timing of the four hour trip to Edinburgh they were making right now.
> 
> “Damn,” Harry said and bolted for the garage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for being slow with this chapter. I was hoping to have it up beginning of the week, but it has been crazy at work. The next chapter is also going to be slow, I'm afraid. That said, we only have two chapters left so we're almost there! If I don't manage to get a post up next week do not panic. Chapter 9 a big chapter and I might need a bit of extra time to get it all worked out.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who is following along as I post!   
> To all of you waiting patiently for me to finish before reading: I'm close! Only 2 chapters to go.

The trip to Edinburgh was supposed to be a time to just kick back and relax. Ron and Harry had both been invited to take this trip with the band. As Harry stood on the curb, watching the bus pull away without him, he could not help feeling like the odd man out once again. That it had been his idea did not make it any better.

“You alright, Harry?” Neville asked, coming up beside him.

“Yeah.” Harry said, but his heart was not in it. Shaking himself firmly, Harry turned to face his friend. “Any luck?”

“None,” Neville said. “The lads and I must have canvased every local business in the city. No one has seen Rookwood, and with all the scars on his face he would be a hard one to miss. You sure it was him, mate?”

“It was him,” Harry confirmed without hesitation. 

“Well, I’m not doubting you, but if he was here then, he’s not here now.” Neville said.

“It’s so frustrating.” Harry said, dragging his hands through his hair. “What was he doing here? This obviously isn’t a base of operations or someone would have seen something. Even forget-me-not charms miss occasionally. 

It makes no sense. Why would he attack Pansy? What is he after?”

Neville shrugged. “Do you want us to check the surrounding villages?”

“No. That’s a long shot at best. I don’t want you to get in any deeper than you already are with your boss.” Harry said, shaking his head.

Neville smiled. “The boys and I are on ‘vacation’.”

“All of you?” Harry said, a bit startled. “I’m sure Robards didn’t actually approve that.”

“Sure he did,” Neville said, his smile growing. “Especially since he knew if he had denied our request, we’d have had the right to take it directly to the Minister of Magic.”

“Is he still trying to fly under the radar there?”

“Well, if he is, he’s doing a lousy job. From what I hear, he and Shacklebolt have already had it out a couple times in the last few weeks. It’s been a bit tense in the office and it was a relief to have an excuse to be somewhere else. If you want me and the boys to check out the surrounding villages, even if it is a long shot, we’ll do it.”

The two men exchanged fond glances but Harry still shook his head.

“If I had the slightest hope that would do any good, I would take you up on your offer but I see no value in it. Why don’t you do this instead… if you have a couple of days, help out Charlie. There was a sighting of Antonin Dolohov, the other escaped Death Eater, up that way a week or so ago, not far from where he is investigating some missing kids. They were heading north the last I heard on a hot lead, not that there is much further north you can go from there. I think they were heading to St. Kilda. That was yesterday. Who knows, you might find Rookwood as well.”

“Not much up that far north but rocks. Trust you to send us off into the freezing north.” Neville laughed. “What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to talk to venue crew one more time. Someone tipped of Rookwood that we were here. Someone’s got to know something.”

“Are you sure? The ‘Sly’ tour schedule isn’t that hard to come by. Ms. Lockhard has been posting it to every social media outlet on the planet.”

“Yeah, but not when the bus was going to arrive, or that the band members had a habit of sneaking out of the bus. My gut says it was too coincidental to be an accident.”

Neville shrugged noncommittally. “Good luck with that. You going to Apparate to Edinburgh to meet the band.” 

“No, I got Sirius’ old flying motorbike. It’s been a while since I’ve had a chance to ride it and it’s a nice drive north.”

“Alright, then. I guess if you’re not heading to the Apparition point there is no point waiting for you. We’ll keep you posted if we find anything.” Neville clapped Harry on the back and headed out.

oOo

“Are you sure you haven’t seen this man?” Harry asked the round woman again. She was only giving him a small portion of her attention and had only glanced briefly at the photo. Harry had been very grateful that Draco had identified Pansy’s attacker. Having the picture from the Ministry wanted poster to wave around had made searching for information much easier, although he’d had to cast several spells on the thing to keep it from moving.

Although, picture or no, he was still coming up empty.

“I’m sorry sir, I really haven’t seen anyone who looks like that,” the lady said without looking up from her desk. “Now if you will excuse me, I really am very busy.”

Harry walked away, frustrated. “Why am I doing Ron’s job again?” he asked himself even as he started stopping people in the halls to show the picture. Despite the frustration, Harry knew why he was here. The image of a pair of grey eyes, lit up in relief when Harry said he believed him, kept him going. He and Draco had done little more than wave at each other in passing, between the band schedule and Harry’s hunt for the escaped Death Eaters. 

He had made it a point to be in the audience, front and center for every performance. Partly it was to keep an eye out for Rookwood, but he was also still the band photographer. Taking pictures of Draco had become an obsession. The way he moved was like grace personified, his arms raised above his head, his body bending and thrusting. By the end of each concert, Draco was drenched in sweat and Harry needed to lock himself in a loo for some much needed relief before he was presentable. 

Harry dragged his attention back to what he was doing. “Down boy,” he told himself and then chuckled at how literally he meant that. The relationship with Draco was going somewhere. He could feel it. Harry just had to be patient and wait until Draco was ready. In the meantime, Harry needed to do what he had always done, protect those he cared about.

“Excuse me, sir, have you seen this man?” Harry said, grabbing a random man who happened to be walking by. 

“Sure,” the guy says, glancing at the shot. “He was here yesterday,” and then continued off down the hall.

Harry about faced and caught up to him, thrusting the picture back into the man’s face. “This man right here? You’re sure? You saw him yesterday.”

The man stumbled to a halt but gamely took the picture to look again before handing it back. “You don’t forget a face like that.” The man, said. “I’m sure. He was here talking to what’s his name…? Hey David, what was that guy’s name?” He called up to his buddy, waiting for him at the end of the hall.

“Whose name?” The man, obviously David, called back.

“The bus driver for the band. The bus driver for ‘Sly’.”

“Are you saying that you saw this man right here talking to the bus driver for ‘Sly’ yesterday.” Harry clarified.

“Yes, absolutely. Why? Is he in trouble?”

Rookwood had been talking to the bus driver. The bus driver had the itinerary for the entire tour, including … including the timing of the four hour trip to Edinburgh they were making right now.

“Damn,” Harry said and bolted for the garage.

Sirius’ motorcycle wanted to leap into the air the moment the engine roared to life, responding to Harry’s urgent desire to BE THERE ALREADY with an outburst of power and lift. The fight to keep the machine on the ground while surrounded by far to many muggles kept Harry’s mind off his urgent fear that he was already too late.

That Rookwood had been spotted talking to the bus drive the day before the band’s trip north could be a coincidence. While Harry had been out searching the city, that the Death Eater had been walking around right under his nose…. it could just be incredible timing ... but Harry did not believe that for a moment. That Rookwood had been there yesterday could only meant that there was going to be another attack today.

‘Ron is there,’ Harry reassured himself even as he weaved in and out of traffic on the bike.

‘He is the Auror, not me. He’ll know what to do.’ Harry repeated over and over even as he frantically looked for any hidden corner where he could disappear and take the bike skyward.

‘The trip is four hours long. They wouldn’t attack this early. It will be closer to the end.’

Harry had to admit to himself that he wasn’t listening when ducked down a deserted back street and finally got the bike in the air.

Twenty minutes later Harry felt the tingle of magic brush against his skin and he knew he was close. 

“Finite Incantatem!” 

The bus shimmered into view as the Disillusionment spell faded. It was tipped over on it’s side just around a blind curve but perfectly visible from the air. Surrounding it were half a dozen wizards in black cloaks. They all turned at the sound of the motorbike and one of them moved toward Harry as he dove at them.

Harry wasn’t worried. He could take Rookwood.

The man on the ground pushed back his hood. The long, pale, twisted face grinning up at him was not the one Harry had expected.

oOo

Harry groaned as pain dragged him back to consciously.

“He’s waking up.”

“Ron?” Harry asked, trying to pry his eyelids off his eyes.

“Here mate, how are you feeling?”

Something soft shifted under Harry’s head. He finally got his eyes to work and he blinked up at the grey eyes that haunted his dreams.

“Draco,” Harry said softly.

“You’re an idiot,” Draco responded, but a flush of color ran across his cheeks as he looked away and Harry counted it as a win.

Harry was laying out flat on the marble of the grand entrance of the tour bus, his head cushioned in Draco’s lap. While he appreciated the elegance of the floor, it wasn’t very comfortable, no matter how tempted he was by his pillow. Ron and the band members were seated around him on the floor. Harry groaned again as he tried to sit up and Ron and Draco reached out to help. “That wasn’t Rookwood.”

“Nope. You took on Dolohov, single handed, if you don’t count his entourage.” Ron confirmed.

“Hey, I had the high ground.” It was a weak defense at best.

Draco joined in. “You do know that not a single Death Eater was better than he was at dueling and none who loved it more.”

Harry sighed. “Where’s Flitwick when I need him.”

“Not here, obviously,” Draco said, but he was looking up. Harry followed his gaze. It was like an optical illusion. The windows lining the ceiling of the room appeared to be two stories high, but the long figure looking down at them through the glass appeared as large as though they really were only separated by the height of the bus.

The burly Death Eater’s long, pale, twisted face smirked down at them.

“Can he break through the wards on the bus?” Harry asked Draco, his wand out as he glared defiantly up at the mad man above them.

“The wards should repel a full scale invasion aimed anywhere but the front door.” Draco assured.

“Then how did you get me in?” Harry asked.

“He tossed your unconscious body at the door and walked away.” Blaise said. He was sitting with his head down resting on his knees, as though if he could not see anything maybe the problem would go away. Harry knew the feeling.

“We thought you were dead,” Pansy added, curling up tighter against Ron’s side. Ron pulled her in close. The look on his face told Harry in no uncertain terms what that moment had cost his friend.

“I’m sorry.” Harry said softly. It was not the first time Ron had assumed him dead. Harry needed to be more careful to make sure it was the last. “I think we’re getting too old for this hero crap.”

Ron nodded and cracked a smile. “I thought you were just supposed to be the band photographer.”

“So did I. Who knew taking pictures was such a dangerous profession?”

Harry could literally see the moment Ron’s strategic mind kicked in and another thought occurred to him.

“Wait, if Dolohov and his goons can’t get in, does that mean that we can’t get out?”

Draco nodded.

“But I thought the wards were yours. Why can’t we get out?” Harry asked.

“We’ve got the wards to keep him out, but he’s got something on the door to keep us in.” Draco said, waving to the front door behind them.

Apparition?” Harry asked.

The expression on Draco’s face was enough to answer that question.

“Floo Network?” Ron asked in desperation.

“Have you seen any fireplaces on this bus, Weasley?”

“Where’s Hermione when we need her?” Ron asked, imitating Harry’s question from earlier.

Despite the dire circumstances, Harry could not help smiling at the off-handed way Ron mentioned his ex and nodded in agreement. They had always relied on her to be a step ahead of everyone else when it came to magic use.

Draco dragged a book out from behind him. “It appears what he used is Minotaur blood.”

“Where did you get that?” Harry asked, nodding at the book.

“Out of the mess of what remains of the library.”

“We had a library?” Goyle asked.

“One door down from the exercise room,” Draco said dryly and Goyle had the grace to blush.

“How do you open a door sealed with Minotaur blood?” Ron asked.

“You mean without the original caster’s wand?” Draco clarified and both Ron and Harry rolled their eyes. Suddenly they weren’t missing Hermione so much after all.

“Yes, Draco.”

“Every drop of Minotaur blood comes complete with a magical labyrinth. Solve the labyrinth and you are free. Mess up and your blood is added to that of the original Minotaur.”

Ron cast Harry a questioning look but Harry shook his head. “I didn’t do so well at the Maze for the Triwizard tournament. That’s when I lost Cedric. I hate to say this, but we will probably be ahead to wait and take on the Death Eaters rather than the labyrinth.”

oOo

An hour later the bus took off. Whatever enchantments they had been doing out there was obviously giving the bus the ability to go airborne. Harry did not know what happened to the original driver, he never did learn his name, but Dolohov and his followers piled into the front of the bus and then they were off, flying up off the road and into the air. He watched with a heavy heart as his motorcycle, still laying in the weeds by the side of the road, grew progressively smaller. When the land disappeared from beneath them, replaced by an endless stretch of water, Harry started reassessing his decision to take his chances with the labyrinth.

“Relax Potter. If they wanted us dead they would have done that already.” Draco said from his seat at the table.

Goyle had gone to work off his stress on his weights and Zabini had gone to work off his on the piano. From what Harry could tell he was halfway through the entire Phantom of the Opera score. Harry had not asked what Ron and Pansy were off doing.

Harry righted a chair next to Draco and plopped down into it. “Any thoughts on what they might want?” He tried to keep his question kind. Draco looked stressed enough for both of them. The blond just shook his head. 

Draco leaned forward and rested his forehead on the table. Harry reached out, hesitating for a moment, his hand hovering, unsure of his welcome, and then allowed his fingers to settle softly on Draco’s back. Draco turned his head on the table and looked at him. Harry’s full hand settled and he began to rub slow circles through the soft material of Draco’s shirt.

Grey eyes met green and held as Harry touched him. His hand grew bolder sliding down to caress his sides and up under his arms, his fingers never lingering, never speeding up, just touching, soft and gentle.

“Harry.” Draco’s voice was whisper quiet.

“Yes, Draco.”

Draco sat up. Harry pulled his hand back, expecting another rejection. Instead, he found himself with an arm full of warm Malfoy. “Hold me.”

So Harry held him. 

Kidnapped and facing an uncertain future, it was the most peace Harry had known in a long time.


	9. Confronting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry, Ron and the Sly band take on Death Eaters, scared teenagers and job offers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the extremely long delay since my last post. I would complain about life and things blowing up and while all of that is true, what it really boils down to is that this chapter scared the life out of me. It's long, complex, with lots of emotions I was trying to do justice to... yeah, I was scared. But I figured out a way to get through it, and with some help from my lovely beta Erin_Riwen it is finished.
> 
> The better news is that chapter 10 is complete as well. It currently is sitting as a hand written version in my notebook that needs to be transcribed and beta'd, but the worst is done and I can promise it will be posted next week on schedule unless the world ends between now and then.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for your patience, comments, and support.

Draco could not look away. Harry and Ron lay on the ground screaming, Dolohov standing over them cackling in delight at their pain.

The bus had touched down on St. Kilda, an island so far north of Scotland it was almost on the other side of the globe. The grass beneath the wheels ended in a violent plunge, down hundreds of feet to the ocean crashing below. The angry ocean was the perfect accompaniment to the horrible torture going on in front of them.

The band was huddled together against the bus, none of them really the worse off after the battle for control of the bus. Harry and Ron had taken the brunt of the attack, were still taking it, their wands confiscated, lying helpless on the ground as another round of crucios reigned down on them.  
“Stop it!” Pansy yelled in helpless fury as Ron screams are cut off as his lungs struggled to keep up with the demand for oxygen. Her cries only goaded the mad man on, Dolohov's face twisted in unholy glee as he renewed his efforts. 

Draco pulled her to him. She resisted for a moment before giving in to bury her face in his neck. He forced his own eyes away from the horror in front of them. Surrounding them was close to fifty wizards or witches in black clocks, the oldest of which were barely out of their teens. Draco was very familiar with what it was like to find yourself following a mad man with no idea how you came to be there. Most of the youth watching wore an expression he knew he himself had worn as he watched Voldemort perform similar acts of abuse. As much as he wanted to yell and demand they stand up to Rookwood and Dolohov, that together they were strong enough to take them down, Draco knew it was no use.

He knew what it was to stand in their place. He knew the desire to have someone else save him, for someone else to make the evil go away. His eyes were dragged unwillingly back to Harry as he convulsed on the ground. Harry was the one who had always rescued them all in the past. Draco closed his eyes and clutched Pansy tighter. 

There was no one to save them this time.

“That’s enough Antonin.” Rookwood’s pleased calm voice brought no comfort, even as the sound of voices that had screamed themselves hoarse was replaced by the harsh panting of two men pushed beyond their limit of pain. The smell of burnt flesh mixed with the sharp crackle of magic in the air made Draco want to throw up.

Watching Harry pant through the pain, Draco found himself wondering if it was worth all the crap Potter had been through. 

He wondered if Harry thought Draco was worth it. 

The one thing Draco did know, catching Rookwood’s pleased expression as he approached, was that things were about to get worse. “Draco Malfoy, my dear boy. So good to see you.” The grandfatherly tone was belied by the sinister expression on his scarred face. 

“What do you want Rookwood?” Draco pulled Pansy behind him, a bit surprised that she went without a fight. Hearing the Death Eaters voice so soon after his attack on her mind was undoubtedly affecting her. Behind the two former associates of his father, Draco could see Harry struggling to sit up. Even after everything he had gone through, Harry was still trying to get to him, to help them.

Rookwood tisked drawing his attention back. “Now Draco, do not be like that. We’re all friends here. Old brothers in the cause, even if you were too young to take the mark. But do not be concerned. We are here to fix all that and allow you to finally join us properly.” The wizard waved his boney hand at the gathered assembly.

Draco’s sneer felt like an old friend. “Join who? You, Dolohov and a bunch of scared teenagers?”

“We managed to take down the great Harry Potter, didn’t we?” Dolohov growled, kicking Harry in the ribs and back down onto his back. 

“Only when he was grossly outnumbered and struggling to defend us as well as take you all on,” Draco snapped back and then wanted to bite his tongue. What was he doing? Antagonising their captures would not help them get through this. The part of Draco that had always put his head down and did what he was told was screaming at him to simply agree to anything they asked. It took a moment, as Dolohov growled at him and Rookwood continued to watch with eyes that saw too much, for Draco to realize that deep inside of him, the little boy who had always dreamed of being friends with Harry Potter, the part of him that had bloomed and preened under Harry's unexpected attention, that little boy was angry.

After waiting so long to be anything to Harry but an enemy, to have finally gotten his friendship and the possibility of so much more, he found a deep well of rage battling to come out that these two men would try and take it all away from him now.

“You’re right, of course,” Rookwood said, waving to their audience. “Overwhelming numbers took down Harry Potter. But is it enough to take down the ministry? Can we take down those corrupt officials who have nothing better to do than torment you and your friends?” Rookwood eased towards Draco as if he were stalking a particularly skittish rabbit. There was no question as to who the prey was in this scenario. 

When he was close enough to touch he continued. “Not yet. But there will be, when you join us.”

Draco glanced at his band mates and friends to see his own confusion reflected back at him. “You think the four of us can take on the ministry?”

“The four of you,” Rookwood nodded, “and that marvelous spell you have developed. The one that has shot you to fame and fortune in a matter of months in one of the most competitive markets on the planet. The spell that can do that for you, can reach into the Magical world and draw out enough support to take down the ministry and set us all up in our rightful places.”

Draco could not help himself, he laughed. It made so much sense he wasn’t sure why he hadn’t seen it before. The concept that talent and passion and hard work had earned them a place in the hearts of their fans was as foreign to the Death Eaters as it was to Robards. It was so much easier for them to believe such success came from a spell, as impossible as that spell was.

“Oh don’t be shy,” Rookwood said, “That spell is brilliant in its power to influence the hearers thoughts and perceptions even after they are outside the sphere of influence. Even if it only impacted the weak willed, such a thing could be used to attack from the shadows and then, when there are enough under its power, to call up an army great enough to crush the ministry and take up our rightful place as rulers of the world.

Draco shook his head and wiped off the tears of mirth and panic from his face. “Of course. Of course you would think it is a spell. You and Robards.”

Rookwood’s face dropped the good natured grin, true anger showing for the first time. “Antonin.”

Draco found himself slammed back into the side of the bus, Dolohov’s deranged smile and foul breath filling his world. “Augustus doesn’t like being compared to the head Auror,” Dolohov explained, bouncing Draco’s head off the metal at his back for emphasis. “Makes him angry.”

Draco could hear Harry’s weak, “No, don’t. Leave him alone,” and the sounds of the lunatic trying to get up again. 

It was enough to help Draco pull his own shattered composure back together, despite the black spots in his vision and the pounding pain at the back of his head. “There is no spell,” he said flatly.

Dolohov banged him up against the bus again.

“Now Draco, surely you do not mean for us to believe you and your little group of Slytherin’s caught the attention of so many muggles on talent alone do you?” Rookwood asked.

“Fuck you!” Blaise spat out from behind Greg. “Have you listened to our music?”

“Yes,” Rookwood said. “Very clever, that spell of yours. I admit you have successfully hidden it, even from me.”

“There is no spell,” Draco insisted, feeling like he was speaking into an empty space with no one listening.

Rookwood tisked him again before moving away. “We will get it from you eventually,” he said in that same conversational tone that was all the more threatening for it’s mildness. He stopped next to Harry who had managed to sit up. Harry glared up at him, the git, defiant to the end. “The only question, my dear Draco, is how much are you willing to lose before we do.”

Rookwood tossed Draco a hard look over his shoulder before heading off towards the drop off. “Bring him along, Antonin.”

Dolohov dropped Draco, whose legs refused to support him and he collapsed in a heap on the grass. His head swam and his stomach rolled. When he finally felt like he would not empty the contents of his stomach Draco lifted his head to see Dolohov walking after Rookwood, Harry floating helplessly along behind them.

Pansy rushed to Ron, throwing her arms around him as he groaned. Draco spared them a glance before he staggered to his feet and stumbled, unwilling and more than a bit panicked, towards the edge of the steep drop off.

oOo

Harry hung above them, suspended on nothing but a mad man’s pleasure, empty air and certain death below him. Despite this. his expression showed no fear. Green eyes met Draco’s and held. Draco had never loved the twat more than he did at that moment. “It’s okay,” Harry said. Maybe he said, or maybe he just mouthed the word, still not enough air in his lungs from the pain he had endured just minutes before.

How could it be okay, Draco wondered, the thought coming from someplace a step removed from the gut wrenching scene they were all playing out. He should be panicking but all he felt was the numb certainty of how this would end. He was about to lose this wonderfully brave man. The final insult seemed to be that the sea, that would soon swallow so much, had already drowned the last words Draco would ever have gifted to him from this precious man in front of him. “Harry,” Draco said, and there was nothing more. Just his name, and a helplessness that would cost him everything.

“Yes, I thought so,” Rookwood’s mild voice jabbed into Draco like knives, stilling the numbness away like blood seeping from a wound. “There is something between you two. You hide it well, Draco Malfoy, you are very good at hiding things, but reading people, well it’s my thing really.” 

Rookwood grinned, small and sharp and awful. “Here we are then. I’m sure I don’t have to explain your choices to you, but let’s review them anyway. You can join our cause, the cause of your father and your heritage. The one that will see you take back the respect and position that is rightfully yours. We will destroy those who have oppressed and corrupted our people for so long, Mudbloods, blood Traitors, Muggle lovers and all those who side with them. It will be a glorious new world and you will have a place at my side as we build it.” 

Rookwood’s eyes, that had almost glowed in fervorous delight as he described the future as he saw it, flickered briefly Harry’s direction before he threw in as an afterthought, “And we will allow Mr. Potter here to live for a while longer.”

Rookwood shifted a bit as though bringing himself back to reality before continuing. “The alternative is equally as simple. You can stand here and watch Potter die, and then the rest of your little band. Before we toss you over the cliff to join them we will strip the information from your mind and build the new world order without you.”

Draco closed his eyes. There was some comfort in knowing Rookwood was in for an unpleasant shock when he finally tried to rip the information from him the way he had tried with Pansy. Still his mind raced desperately searching for a way out, another path other than what Rookwood had in store. The blind panic and overwhelming helplessness seemed to take him back in time. He was standing in a Hogwarts tower at night, wand in hand, facing down an helpless old man that he had never before seen as anything but a conniving enemy. The struggle for a way out, a different path, both then and now blurred into one. Dumbledore had fallen and Harry would soon follow him down and Draco, for all his pride in his own intelligence, could not save either one.

He could try playing along like he did with Voldemort. But that had not worked. Playing along, trying to do just enough to keep himself and his family out of trouble was what had landed him in the tower with orders to kill Dumbledore. 

Could he fool Rookwood where he had failed to fool Voldemort with Harry’s life on the line if he failed? He was a Slytherin. Surly that meant he had the skills to pull this off. He could agree to help, string the two mad men along with empty promises about a spell that did not exist until an opportunity came where they could all escape. It would work. It had to. Draco opened his eyes, ready to try, to agree to anything to keep his family alive. 

Wait. 

No, that was last time, with Dumbledore.

He found himself staring once again into bright green eyes. That’s right. He was trying to save Harry. Harry who had believed him when there was every reason to be suspicious, who had stood by him and Pansy against Robards, who had treated this investigation into the attack of a Slytherin, a girl who had been willing to turn him over to certain death to save her own skin just a few years previous, as though it was just as important as an attack on one of his own close friends. Draco could do this. This time he could save Harry. 

He opened his mouth to speak, to lie and posture and do anything necessary.

Harry’s face remained calm and unafraid as he shook his head slow and clear. No, he was saying. Don’t do it.

Draco felt like Harry had hit him. All the air left his lungs in a hard exhale as he tried to comprehend what Harry wanted. ‘But you’re going to die, you barmy prat.’ The thought pounded in his brain, trying to get out past his empty lungs. ‘Don’t make me watch you die,’ he pleaded into the awful nothingness of his own mind.

Harry’s eyes flickered away so fast he almost missed it, tracking high over Draco’s left shoulder. Then Harry smiled, a soft gentle thing that hurt to look at. “Trust me.”

Did Draco hear that warm deep voice? Or perhaps he just knew it so well he did not need to hear it. His body shook against the trauma of what was being asked of him. It was so out of character, so far from what he had ever done before. To lie and threaten and bluff through was his way was his birthright, his heritage as much as Malfoy Manor. 

Draco Malfoy did not stand defiant against evil. That was Harry’s way.

“Trust me,” Harry had said, had asked. 

Draco closed his eyes for one more moment, and decided. 

He would trust Harry.

He gathered the tatters of his courage and composure around him. Then taking a deep breath he turned to Rookwood and said simply, “No. No I won’t join you. Not now, not ever.”

It was a bit startling how strong his voice came out, carrying over the sound of the waves on the rocks and the wind against the cliff face. His voice seemed to carry across the grass to the bus and the band and the scared teenagers Rookwood and Dolohov had bullied and manipulated into joining them.

“No,” Draco said again.

Rookwood’s face lost its calm facade, it’s pretense of friendliness. He was cold and hard as he sneered back, “Drop him.”

It was not a surprise and yet Draco could not help whipping his head around in horror. One more moment they spent looking at each other across a distance that was about to become eternal. Harry still did not look afraid. Then he was gone.

“Harry!” Draco screamed over the sound of Dolohov’s laughter. He darted forward, to do what, he would never be sure. Perhaps he thought to end things with Harry, to follow him off the cliff. He would never know for sure. Even as he charged forward something shot past him, over the cliff and after Harry. 

Something big. 

Something very very big. 

Was that a dragon? The thought stopped Draco in his tracks. The sound of fighting had him spinning back around to the clearing. Wizards were pouring out of the woods surrounding them, many with Auror’s robes, even more it seemed with the bright red hair that could only be grown by Weasley’s. The scared teenagers were putting up very little resistance.

“Rookwood, Dolohov, Malfoy, surrender now!”

Just when Draco was sure the day could not get worse. Robards stormed towards them, red face and bellowing. “You are outnumbered and surrounded!”

Draco raised his empty hands without the slightest expectation that it would do any good. Neither Dolohov or Rookwood had any intention of going that quietly.

Dolohov charged at Robards, wand extended, curses flying. One of the best duelists in the wizarding world, it took nearly ten Aurors to fight him to a stand still. Robards stumbled backwards almost immediately lost to Draco’s view.

Rookwood dove for Draco. Unarmed, Draco lept backwards, away from the attack, only to run into something firm and warm and BIG. Rookwood switched directions so fast he ended up on his butt, scuttling backwards like a crab right into Ron. “Gotcha, you creep.” Ron said, ripping Rookwood’s wand from his hand.

Draco looked up and up and up. A Horntailed dragon looked down at him, and seated high on his back, grinning and only a bit worse for wear, was Harry Potter. “You alright there Draco?” Harry’s hoarse voice was filled with amusement.

Sliding down the Hortail’s leg, Draco sat back and took his first full breath since Harry had fallen. “Never better,” he called back and the smile on his face was too full of relief to be anything but happy.

oOo

As he waited to come down off the adrenaline of pure terror, Draco found himself identifying faces in the crowd. Neville approached Harry and was subtly keeping him upright after he had slid down off the dragon. Several of the men that had assisted Harry in the past week were actively helping Ron wrangle Rookwood, while almost everyone else was caught up wrestling Dolohov who had not stopped fighting.

The Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, was standing next to an older redhead that Draco thought must be Arthor Weasley who was helping Robards back to his feet. Draco had a moment to wonder what those two men were even doing here, which led to the thought of what were any of them doing here. That was more than Draco was willing to tackle at the moment, so he pushed that thought away and kept scanning the crowd.

He finally spotted Pansy, Blaise and Greg pressed firmly against the side of the bus, seemingly no happier to be surrounded by Aurors than they were to be surrounded by Death Eaters. Draco had just about gathered the energy to get up and join them when yet another redhead approached him. 

“What do you think of our little lady here?” the man asked, patting the leg of the dragon Draco was still leaning against.

Draco looked up and up and up again to find the dragon looking back. He shuddered and looked away. He had been trying to forget what it was exactly that he was using as a backrest. It had been a plan that had been working for him.

A pointed smile in Weasley’s weather-beaten face said he could guess at least some of what Draco was feeling about his ‘little lady’ and was more than a bit amused. Draco had been a Malfoy too long not to respond.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a tone that implied exactly the opposite. “I’m afraid you Weasley’s all look the same to me. Which one are you again?”

The smile cooled. “Ron said you were still a pain in the arse. I’m Charlie. The one who works with dragons. The one it is smart not to tick off.”

Draco could not think of a reply that was not beneath him, and his pride had taken enough of a beating today. Instead he steered the conversation to less dangerous waters. “What are you all doing here?”

Charlie shrugged and glanced back towards the others and was watching when Ron, finally relieved of his burden, limped purposefully towards the bus. Pansy ran to meet him. Charlie flushed red and looked away from the resulting enthusiastic physical display.

Charlie cleared his throat. “Ah… ummm.. Sorry, what did you say?”

Draco could not help his own amused grin. “How did you find us so quickly?”

“Right, yes. We’ve been tracking the disappearing kids for the last couple weeks. One of my buddy’s siblings got caught up in this mess and disappeared on him. We had gotten a tip about this place and were organizing a group to check it out when Neville showed up with news of Harry taking off after your tour bus like a bat out of hell and then the whole thing disappearing.”

“I called Dad, who got Shacklebolt to drag Robards and all available Aurors up here with him. We all suspected that if they had taken both Harry and Ron this had to be more than just a bunch of kids being irresponsible. While dad was handling the Aurors, I made a side trip to go pick up Norberta here. She and Harry bonded when he came to visit last and I figured she could help us track him. Good thing I did. Not sure how we would have gotten Harry out of that mess otherwise.”

Draco still could not bring himself to look up, but he did pat the leg he was leaning against fondly. They had come too close to disaster for Draco to be anything less than grateful to the beast for its assistance.

“Bet Robards was kicking and screaming the whole way here,” Draco mused.

Charlie hummed his agreement. “Seemed to think this whole thing was a waste of time, that is until he saw yo. He’s got a real bone to pick with you. What did you do, kill his pet or something.”

“And then ate it for breakfast.”

Charlie laughed and Draco warmed at the fact that he had known Draco was teasing rather than assuming he was serious, no matter the absurdity of the statement. The Horntail vibrated behind Draco, as though responding to Charlie’s laughter. The sound it made could almost be mistaken for a purr if it was not coming from a 200 stone lizard. Draco looked up and again found the dragon looking back. He had to admit that the terror of being in the regard of such a large and dangerous creature did ease with exposure. He was about to say as much when Charlie groaned. “Speak of the devil.”

Sure enough, Robards had broken away from Arthur and the minister and was storming in their direction. “You’ve done it this time, Malfoy! You’ll receive the Dementor’s kiss for sure.”

Draco lounged further back, more as an attempt to get further away from yet another madman in his face than any at posturing. It struck him as a bit odd he was more comfortable with the dragon than the Head Auror.

It was a bit of a shock when Charlie stepped in front to defend him. “What are you talking about Robards? He was kidnapped. We all saw the Death Eaters threaten him as we moved into position, and as I recall his response was pretty clear.”

“It all seemed rather buddy buddy to me,” Robards sneered. “The little worm was standing right here next to Dolohov and Rookwood, safe as can be. He’s in with them, just like his no good father, and there is nothing you can say to me to convince me otherwise.”

“Robards.” Arthur Weasley’s voice was calm but firm as he and Shacklebolt walked up behind them. “As an Auror you are supposed to be an impartial executor of the law. That you already have your mind made up is worrying.” 

Robards started sputtering and Arthur laid a friendly hand on his shoulder even as he continued to defend Draco. “We all heard him tell them no. That was very clear. Whatever they were trying to get him to do, and I’m sure the inquiry will provide those answers, he was very clearly resisting.”

‘Oh’, Draco thought. His estimation of his own intelligence dropped significantly as he finally put the whole thing together. Harry had seen them sneaking in. Maybe because of his elevated view as he hung above his tormentors, or the fact that Rookwood, Dolohov and Draco all had their back turned, or because it was impossible to hide a dragon that size in any bunch of trees … Whatever it was, Harry had seen the Aurors coming, had known they were about to be saved. He had asked Draco to stand against Rookwood not to save his own skin, but because if he didn’t Draco would find himself caught up in the arrests. 

Did he also know they would be able to save him? It might have been a possibility, but not one worth risking his life. And yet, that is exactly what Harry had done. Instead of encouraging Draco to give them whatever assurances they needed to get him down so that they could all be rescued, Harry had insisted Draco stand firm. 

The tosser. 

As usual, he was more worried about others than himself. Draco wanted to hug him and never let go. How could anyone think Draco was worthy of that?

Lost in his own realizations, Draco had stopped paying attention and missed some of the argument. As he tuned back in, he decided whatever he missed had not been very important as Robards was still out of control and screaming about how the Malfoys were the root of all evil.

“...and got Harry Potter thrown off a cliff!” he was screaming at Arthur. “He’s a murder! His whole bloody family should have their souls sucked out and their bodies dumped in an unmarked grave! Their precious manor should be leveled and the grounds salted! They are evil, vile …”

“That’s enough!” Kingsley Shacklebolt said in that deep booming voice of authority that had helped him get elected. 

Robards turned on him but something must have gotten through, because his tone turned whining and pleading. “Kingsley … Minister … you don’t understand. No one understands.”

“Old friend,” Shacklebolt said, sliding an arm around Robards shoulders and gently steering him away. “How long has it been since you had a proper vacation? Something long and relaxing, perhaps a beach, time to work on a nice tan?”

Shacklebolt led Robards off which left Draco alone with two Weasleys. That would be bad enough but he had the sickening realization that he owed them both an expression of gratitude. He was struggling with exactly how he was going to pull that off and not lose all sense of decorum when Harry Potter arrived to save the day again. He pulled Draco to his feet and wrapped him close. “Are you alright?”

“Am **I** alright?” Draco asked back incredulously and decided to hell with decorum. He wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and held on tight. With Harry still recovering from the torture, Draco was not sure who was supporting who and yet despite that, all was wonderfully perfect in his world. That was his only excuse for what slipped out next. “I’m in love with a git.”

Behind him, there was the distinct sound of choking from Charlie which blew any hope Draco had that his comment had not been heard. 

Harry drew back from Draco slowly, his expression a stunned wonder, fragile and precious. “Really?” he whispered.

Well, he was already doomed, Draco decided. Might as well go with it. “Yes,” he breathed back.

The soft meeting of lips was like slipping into a warm bath. Draco could feel the angry tension in his muscles ease. The smooth slide of skin on skin was chaste and tentative and amazing. He knew he was forever spoiled for anyone else. The thought that he would only ever be able to kiss Harry Potter going forward did not bother him at all.

Reality passed at a different pace when kissing Harry. When they finally parted to the sound of a throat being cleared, Draco had no idea if it had been minutes, hours or years since he last took a breath. Shacklebolt had returned with Robards and several others had wandered over, creating quite the little audience they had been performing for. Ron and Pansy were beaming at them as was Arthur, while Charlie was once again red-faced and trying to find somewhere else to look.

Draco could feel the ridiculous smile that had taken over his face but could not be bothered to smother it. Shacklebolt managed that for him when he cleared his throat. A sense of foreboding had Draco tightening his hold on Harry.

“Robards will be going on extended leave for a while. With his injury from the war, we might be able to get him early retirement.”

“He needs a mind healer,” Harry told the minister firmly.

“Yes.” Shacklebolt nodded and Harry nodded back, satisfied, but the Minister was not done. “But that leaves me with an open position that I urgently need filled.” 

He shot Harry a hopeful look and Draco felt his stomach drop. He lifted his eyes to Harry’s face and found him looking back. Draco was not sure what Harry saw on his face, but the hesitation that had been there melted away as Harry tenderly slipped a strand of white gold hair behind Draco’s ear. “I’m sorry Kingsley, but I can’t.” 

“I’ve already got my dream job,” Harry continued. “It just doesn’t get any better than being photographer for the greatest up and coming band in the whole of the UK.”

Draco’s smile had to be well past ridiculous now and it did not have anything to do with Harry’s over the top estimation of how his band was doing. As he could not stop his face from pulling that expression, he buried it in Harry’s shoulder, surrounding himself in the warmth that poured from the man he loved.

“Are you sure,” Shacklebolt asked from outside the enchanted world of Harry’s delicious smell. Draco was not worried. He felt Harry’s response rumble up from the depths of his chest like a seismic event.

“I’m sure.”

“Well, as happy as I am for you, that still leaves me with an urgent position to fill.”

Draco peeked out from Harry’s shoulder to watch Shacklebolt. He was glancing around at the field full of Aurors when his face suddenly brightened. “Ron!”

Ron’s head came up from where it was resting against Pansy. “Sir?”

“I understand you were instrumental in tracking down these two scoundrals.” Shacklebolt waved in the direction of where Rookwood and Dolohov were bound and waiting to be transported back to Azkaban.

“Ah no sir, that was…” Ron was waving a hand in Charlie’s direction even as Pansy was shaking her head, sensing like Draco had, exactly where this was going.

“Fine work like yours should be rewarded,” Shacklebolt pushed forward with his politician grin. “How would you feel about a promotion?”

Ron blinked. “Me?”

“It would be a great service to the magical community,” Shacklebolt pushed.

“I mean …” Ron looked down at Pansy who was still shaking her head, and then at Harry. Draco felt Harry’s shoulders shrug. “I’ve never been in charge of anything before.”

The quiet wonder and awe at being asked was clear in Ron’s voice. It was not a refusal and they all knew it. Pansy closed her eyes in defeat.

“It’s easy,” Kingsley lied, “and you’ll have lots of help. Come to my office whenever you finish getting this wrapped up and we’ll talk.”

Shacklebolt slapped Ron on the shoulder and then made his escape. Ron’s bit of a smile disappeared completely when he looked back down at Pansy. “It’s just a promotion,” he tried to explain. 

Pansy just shook her head and walked away. Her family held too many ministry positions for her not to know what taking this job meant. Draco’s heart went out to her.

“I’ve never had the chance to be in charge before,” Ron called after her. She did not even pause. Ron looked back at Harry for help. “I’ve always been chasing after you, or my brothers, trying to keep up.”

“I know,” Harry agreed, but he sounded sad.

“The younger ones in a big family always struggle to find ways to stand out,” Ron said, looking now at Charlie.

“I’ve never noticed that you had any trouble standing out, kiddo,” Charlie teased, his tone gentle.

Ron turned to his father. “I just want to make you proud.”

Arthur pulled his youngest son into his arms. “I am proud, as long as you are happy.”

Draco settled more firmly against Harry and watched Ron look after Pansy with a heartbroken expression. Somehow Ron was missing what everyone was saying. Draco wasn’t though. Somewhere inside of him there was a small boy who was finally happy.


	10. Concluding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron questions his career choice and they all live happily ever after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished!   
> For all of you who stuck around I again apologize for the huge delay in the middle.  
> For everyone waiting for me to get back to working on "Not Easy" I'm on it!
> 
> It will be a couple weeks before I start posting the next chapter in the Not Easy story. I've gone through the original and made a whole bunch of fixes and changes to the original and will be posting those next week.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for their support! I will reply to every comment, I treasure every kudo, and I thank everyone for reading.

Ron sat hunched over his desk in his brand new office, the halls beyond echoing in the way empty buildings do after hours. Two weeks in and this had already become a habit, the last one to leave at night and the first one in the next morning. 

Buried beneath mounds of paperwork are two owls from Harry, one from his dad, another from Charlie and three from his mother. He will get to them, he will, just a couple more reports to review first.

There is a pain in his chest that reasserts itself every time he takes a moment to breathe over the lack of word from Pansy, but if asked he would say he was relieved. When things calm down he’ll go after her, make it up to her, help her see what a good thing this is for his career. Right now, things are too new; it will calm down eventually. He’ll get through the worst of these reports, his men will close some of the open cases … it will get better.

The clack of heels are loud in the silence of the after hour building, startling Ron into looking up from his paperwork. “Hermione!” Ron smiled, pleased to see a friendly face.

“Hello Ron,” Hermione’s gaze was warm and fond. “I came to congratulate you on your promotion.”

“Thank you!” Ron said. Some of the weary exhaustion lifted off his shoulders at the reminder that he was in charge, that he had finally achieved a position of respect.

“Listen, a bunch of us have ordered supper. Why don’t you come join us? Bring your work with you. No need to stop just to eat.” 

Ron’s stomach grumbled at the thought of food. He had missed lunch again and with no time for shopping there was little edible left at his flat. “That would be amazing.” He gathered the worst of the reports into his arms and followed Hermione into the hall, grateful for the offer of food and company.

“There is usually someone down here in the ministry refectory every night. You are always welcome to join us.”

“Oh, I won’t be doing this for very long,” Ron waved the offer away. “I am just trying to get on top of the paperwork. You know, just putting a few extra hours in at the beginning to help ease into this.”

Hermione laughed, “Oh Ron, Robards was one of our regulars. Your old boss was down here with us practically every night. Trust me, with this kind of job, you never get on top of the paperwork.” She pushed the door open to the refectory and walked in. 

Ron stood in the doorway and looked around. A handful of witches and wizards were scattered around the room, each surrounded by stacks of paper and a plate of food. No one had looked up at their arrival. No one was laughing or talking or even within arms length of each other.

“Are you coming?” Hermione had paused a few steps in and looked back at him. One of the witches closest to the door shushed her. It was like being in a library and suddenly Ron understood exactly why Hermione was so comfortable here in this place, in this life.

It was like watching a pensive in reverse; instead of seeing past memories, he was seeing future ones. Endless nights spent with these people, strangers who could not be bothered to look up and say hello. He would get back together with Hermione in the quiet camaraderie of working side by side buried under endless scrolls. One day they would find themselves married for years, retired and looking at each other only to realize they were strangers, having lost the ability to have fun together or even talk about anything except work.

This horror of a future awoke in Ron a burning desire to go home, to sit at the Burrow with his Mum yelling in the kitchen with people charging through and laughing, friends and family and all of them with a warm smile, a practical joke and a sincere joy to see him. The feeling was overwhelming. 

He could his father’s voice say ‘I’m proud as long as you are happy.’ Looking around at these quiet people buried inside their nests of paper, Ron realized in startling clarity that he would not be happy here.

“Bloody hell,” Ron breathed, then turned and fled.

oOo

It had been a solid month since he had seen her. Ron shifted nervously outside the door of her bedroom in the tour bus, flowers in hand, gathering up the courage to knock. Malfoy had been the one to let them, he and Harry, in with a look too filled with sympathy for Ron’s comfort. Harry had been with Ron every step of the way, Floo-ing over the night Ron had run from Hermione.

Quitting was the easy part. Shacklebolt had not been happy. His complete inability to understand why Ron was leaving made the conversation more uncomfortable than it needed to be, in his opinion. That bridge was burned. If Ron ever needed to get his job back as an Auror he would never again rise to such a lofty position while under the current Minister of Magic. Ron walked out of the ministry, feeling nothing but free. Quitting was the right decision.

Apologizing to his family for ignoring them was also easy. They all forgave him. His brothers still teased, harassed and pranked him at every opportunity, his mother still scolded and hugged and was a whirlwind of constant motion, while his father beamed proudly at all of them. Life as a Weasley continued on with all of the frustrations and joys that heritage entailed.

This was the last step, the last relationship he had carelessly laid aside for a career that had tried to take everything. Ron raised his hand and knocked, then dropped to one knee. The huge bouquet blocked most of Pansy’s expression when she opened the door, but Ron caught a glimpse of surprised pleasure as he peeked around them with a hopeful expression. “I’m sorry,” Ron said as Pansy struggled to get control over her face. “I was wrong and I won’t do it again.”

That part was a preplanned and carefully coached declaration. Now Ron was on his own to respond as best he could to whatever Pansy threw at him, (hopefully not literally). Even Draco, curled up next to Harry on one of the lumpy Burrow sofas, had been unable to predict how Pansy would react, although he did warn that he should be prepared to duck.

Pansy took the flowers, burying her face in them to take a deep breath. Ron got to his feet, but a sharp look from her had him back on his knees. “The job?” She asked, trying and failing to sound casual.

“I quit.”

She hummed, gently touching the flower pedals. Ron knew he was not out of the woods, but he could not help thinking this was a good sign. “So what are you going to do now?”

What came out next was neither planned nor carefully coached, and yet Ron knew was surprisingly perfect, especially coming from him. “I plan to follow you around and worship the ground you walk on.”

Pansy smiled. “Well, you best come in then.”

oOo

Ron got on brilliantly with the Pyrotechnic crew. He was offered a job with them about the same time Harry got his bike back from the muggle impound lot. Ron, his dad, Fred and George only got kicked out of the Burrow twice after blowing something up in their quest to translate crazy Weasley ideas into Muggle technology. After that, they got smart enough to build themselves a shed/workshop they could regularly blow up in peace.

Living with a band on tour was its own form of hell: road food, little sleep, constant demands and a new crisis of the day that always seemed to hit right about meal time. Ron’s favorite part was late at night, or early morning rather, after a concert, when they were all high on adrenaline. Greg would be showing off his new muscles to whoever was stupid enough to be watching, while Blaise threw food at him. Harry and Draco would be making out while Blaise threw food at them. Pansy would be curled up at his side rating Blaise’s current toss, usually badly, until Ron’s laughter drew Blaise’s fire at which time Pansy would return the food with what even Blaise acknowledged was deadly accuracy. 

After the remains of the food fight were banished or consumed they would usually lay listening to Pansy work on her rapping while Greg provided the beat, Harry and Draco would go back to their fascination with each other's mouths and Blaise would abandon them all for his piano. Sometimes Ron would think of that dark refectory and its occupants shushing each other if they made too much noise. On those nights, when the band finally crashed as the first streams of daylight were peeking in the window, Ron would take a moment to pen an owl to Hermione. 

He would invite her to come take advantage of the VIP tickets Harry and he would have waiting for her at the ticket booth. There would always be a bit about the area of the world they were in, how it would be a brilliant tourist destination if she felt the need for a vacation with an offer to take some time off to explore with her if she wanted to come. 

She never replied.

In his mind's eye, Ron could see his letters and Harry’s and maybe others buried under paperwork. Maybe Hermione told herself ‘One more report’ and then she would look at them. Or maybe she was smart enough not to lie to herself. Hermione had always been the smartest out of them all.

Ron would send the owl off with extra treats as an apology for the early hour before climbing into bed with Pansy for a few hours before the crazy life he had chosen would drag him back out again. Despite this, or maybe because of it, Ron would more often than not fall asleep with a smile.


End file.
